


XOXO

by djchika



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (incidentally! because what's a gossip girl AU without scheming), Alternate Universe - Gossip Girl Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Emotional Manipulation, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gaslighting, Heist, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Consensual Drug Use, and a dash of, but nothing graphic, it's more of Enemies to Best Friends to One Night Stand to Enemies to Best Friends to Lovers, my favorite tropes all in one salad, there will be mentions of, there's also a ball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:08:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27254698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/djchika/pseuds/djchika
Summary: “Hey Upper East Siders, guess who’s back? I may have cashed in my OG website, but as long as there’s scandal there’s Gossip Girl. With all my babies attending the SHIELD Academy Centennial Ball I just couldn’t stay away. As the plebeians say, don’t forget to subscribe. This is a limited time engagement and my pass says VIP. XOXO”What do you do when your sister sends you an SOS so you fly back home and it turns out that the love of your life -- who happened to have ripped your heart out and left it bleeding on his nightstand -- also needs rescuing?If you're Steve Rogers you get sucked into a scheme, makeincrediblybad decisions, and then go,'fuck it, I'm going all in'.--[In case you've never seen Gossip Girl all you need to know is that Gossip Girl is an anonymous entity with secrets flying out of their hair]
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Brock Rumlow (past), James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Loki/Thor (Cameo), Pepper Potts/James "Rhodey" Rhodes/Tony Stark (Mentioned), Scott Lang/Sam Wilson (Hinted)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 110
Collections: Not Another Stucky Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [askmeaboutmyoctopustheory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/askmeaboutmyoctopustheory/gifts), [anisstaranise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anisstaranise/gifts).



> It. Is. Done. I am beyond grateful for the people who were with me on every terrifying climb and exhilarating fall dip and stomach-churning loop of this rollercoaster. Yes, I'm being dramatic, but it's a Gossip Girl AU, baby!
> 
> My artists are the EXTREMELY TALENTED [askmeaboutmyoctopustheory](https://twitter.com/AskAboutOcto) and [anisstaranise](https://anisstaranise.tumblr.com/). I can't wait for everyone to see the art they've made because they are all and _gorgeous_ and magically brought this story into life.
> 
> And of course I OWE SO MUCH to [silverkuja](https://twitter.com/silverkuja), my beta, who edited the hell out of this fic and made it so much crisper and tighter and helped make my ramblings actually _coherent_ lbr.
> 
> Last but not the least thank you for the **(Not) Another Stucky Big Bang moderators.** YOU ROCK!
> 
> I hope y'all have as much fun reading this as I did writing it because it was a damn fun ride.
> 
> xoxo deej

-

Steve wasn’t even sure how it happened. One minute he was double fisting airplane peanuts in a sorry attempt at stress eating, and the next it was past midnight and he was walking the streets of Manhattan with the one person he’d been dreading to see, both of them _inebiated_ — _inerbibated_ — Steve erupted in a fit of wild giggles — they were _shit faced drunk._

“What are you laughing about, you goon?” Bucky grinned at him dopily and Steve couldn’t help but grin back.

“We’re drunk,” he stage-whispered.

“We are!” Bucky yelled, initiating another fit of giggles from Steve as they entered his building.

“Having a good night, Mr. Barnes?” the doorman asked with a fond smile as he held the door for them.

“ _Fan_ -tastic. My divorce was finalized and this big lug’s sister,” Bucky booped Steve’s nose, “just opened her first restaurant!”

“Reason to celebrate indeed.” The guy’s smile was directed more at Bucky which told Steve he knew exactly what tonight meant for him. “Congratulations to you both. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” 

Steve let Bucky steer him towards the elevator, enjoying the warm press of Bucky’s palms on his shoulders. “Wanda is an angel. She’s going to do great!”

He wasn’t just full of drink he was damn near bursting with pride. All of their childhood dreams were coming true. Wanda with her own restaurant and Steve’s string of apprenticeships starting with the V&A. 

“She’s going to do amazing,” Bucky agreed, frowning cutely when his finger missed the button to the penthouse on the first try. He tried it again and beamed triumphantly at Steve when it glowed.

“You’re amazing,” Steve blurted out, his smile widening at the way Bucky blushed. Everything felt good. The haze of alcohol clouded over the past ten years so that all he saw was the man in front of him.

His best friend. The love of his life. The guy who — 

Bucky got right into Steve’s face, poking one long finger repeatedly into his chest.“It’s been years since you’ve spoken to me. The last time I saw you was at my wedding. I refuse to believe I’m that easy to forget.”

The laugh that bubbled out of Steve caused Bucky to poke him some more. “Stop,” Steve said, still laughing as he grabbed Bucky’s hand. “You are the _opposite_ of easy to forget. Do you know how long it took me to get over you?”

— didn’t know that Steve had been ass backwards in love with him for years.

Bucky’s eyebrows drew together in a confused ‘V’. “You barely _liked_ me when we first met. I was horrible to you.” 

“You’re right, you were,” Steve conceded with a little laugh, “but then I got to know you, and how you’re sometimes sweet and even thoughtful when you’re not plotting someone else’s downfall. How you’re brave and loyal and you’d do anything for the people you love even when it sometimes means hurting yourself. You’re pretty wonderful, Buck. Falling in love with you was the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

Bucky’s hand was still clutched in his, but his fingers were now splayed wide against Steve’s chest and Steve was certain that Bucky could feel the way his heart was racing as he spoke. It wasn’t alcohol driving his honesty anymore. It was just Bucky.

The stunned look on Bucky’s face slowly morphed into an expression Steve couldn’t read. “Is that why you practically stopped talking to me when you were in London?”

“Yes?” Steve flushed, his semester as a foreign exchange student was unfortunately also a semester of undignified pining. An embarrassment of embarrassments his friends still won’t let him live down. 

He waited for Bucky to start screaming at him or to stomp off in a huff as soon as the elevator doors opened, but all Bucky did was mutter, “Oh God, Rogers. You’re such an idiot.”

Then with an exasperated roll of his eyes, Bucky used both hands to pull Steve to him by the collar, their lips meeting in a kiss that Steve had spent years dreaming about. 

It was messy and uncoordinated, but they made up for it with a fervor that almost made Steve believe that Bucky had been waiting for this kiss too.

For the second time that night Steve wasn’t sure how he got from the place he’d been to the place where he was now. His memory of the trip from the elevator, then up the stairs to Bucky’s bedroom was nothing more than a blurry series of kisses and discarded clothing.

They were both down to their boxers, Steve flat on his back with Bucky straddling him when the nagging at the back of his head turned into a persistent knocking.

“Wait,” he smoothed his hands over Bucky’s thighs, not quite ready to stop touching him. “Are you sure? We’re both really drunk.”

Bucky smirked, grinding down against Steve as if to show him just how sure he was. “This isn’t your way of warning me about performance issues is it?”

“Jerk,” Steve growled, before pulling him back down for another kiss.

-

It was barely light out, the Manhattan skyline cast in pink and purple hues. Steve allowed himself time to lie there and soak it all in. Bucky was fast asleep, facing Steve, one hand clutching the comforter as if afraid someone would take it from him.

Nat once confided that Bucky was different before his father died. Carefree and trusting. Lacking the constant need to control everything around him. Steve had been curious about that Bucky, wondered about a Bucky whose warmth seeped through his pores and would choose peace and quiet instead of world domination; but it was this Bucky that he’d fallen in love with. This Bucky who could be selfish and mean, yet held in him such a capacity for love that it often left Steve breathless.

It was _this_ Bucky that he wanted to get to know all over again.

Steve fell back asleep, thinking of fresh starts and new beginnings.

He woke up to an empty bed and a broken heart.

-

_“Hey Upper East Siders, guess who’s back? I may have cashed in my OG website, but as long as there’s scandal there’s Gossip Girl. With all my babies attending the SHIELD Academy Centennial Ball I just couldn’t stay away. As the plebeians say, don’t forget to subscribe. This is a limited time engagement and my pass says VIP. XOXO”_

-

“Oh my god,” Wanda cried happily. She enveloped him in a full-body hug followed by a hard smack on his bicep once she let go. “I can’t believe you’re here. I feel like I’m hallucinating.”

“I haven’t been gone that long. I did notice the addition, _Ms. Celebrity Chef_ ,” Steve said proudly, gesturing towards the large restaurant sign for the House of M where right underneath in a smaller script it said _by Chef Wanda Maximoff._

Wanda blushed. “I want to pull that off every time I pass the damn thing, but my business partner insisted on it.”

“Enjoy it while you can. Soon you’ll be too busy to even notice it.”

“Speaking of being too busy...” Wanda trailed off. She gave him her best ‘ _don’t be mad. I’m small and helpless’_ face which Steve knew she most definitely was not.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “What’s going on?”

“There’s an emergency in the kitchen so I can’t catch you up tonight, but I’ll still feed you!” Wanda said in a rush.

She motioned for the host, grabbing the young woman by the shoulder and pushing her to stand in front of Steve.

“Good evening?” the host asked, her eyes darting from Wanda to Steve.

“MJ, this is my brother, Steve. Steve, this is MJ. She’s amazing. She’ll get you seated. I missed you! We have to talk but just — don’t kill me!” Wanda gave him another quick hug before disappearing.

Steve turned to MJ, more than a little dizzy at the whirlwind that was Wanda. “Did she just stand me up?”

“Yup,” MJ said, popping her p. “I’ll be back in a second. We’re getting your table ready, sir.”

Steve thanked her, tucking his hands into his pockets as he examined the bar-slash-waiting area of the restaurant, smiling at new design details that he recognized only due to Wanda’s hour-long rants about fascist decorators and needing to choose between four different shades of white. 

He was endlessly proud of what Wanda had achieved. House of M was only a few years in and it was already so grossly popular it had a three month waiting list. On principle, Steve would usually never wait for three months for food, but he’d make an exception for Wanda anytime. 

They’d both come a long way from being the runts of the group home before Doc Erskine adopted them.

Steve turned towards the main dining area, predictably full to bursting on a Friday night and had just decided to tell MJ he was fine staying at the bar when his eyes landed on Bucky.

That painful night had been the last time he’d seen him, but now Bucky was only a room, four tables and a large potted plant away, surrounded by his usual band of sycophants. Bucky had always been undeniably attractive, but in a few short years his once soft features had chiseled out, accentuating his cheekbones and the strong line of his jaw. His clean-shaven, James Dean coiffk had been replaced with a bit of scruff and a lot less product, allowing his natural curls their freedom.

Whatever delusions Steve had held that he’d be okay if they saw each other again immediately crumbled into dust. He was sixteen all over again, slowly falling in love with his best friend until it was too late, and then he was twenty-eight and waking up alone in an apartment that wasn’t even his.

“I can show you to your table now, Mr. Rogers,” MJ said suddenly appeared beside him, menu in hand. 

“No!” he blurted out, raising his hands in a placating way when she startled.

“Okaaay,” she said slowly. Her smile said _‘I’m here for anything you need’_ . Her wide eyes said ‘ _this white boy is weird and I’m glad I have this thick menu to bludgeon him with if needed’_.

Steve gave her a tight smile that probably didn’t make him seem any less deranged. “You know what, I’m not really sure if I’m staying so it’s fine - you can give away the table. I’ll just stay here. At the bar. For now.”

MJ handed him the menu she was holding. “Um, sure. Why don’t you check this out, then call me when you’ve made a decision.” 

Steve slipped over to the bar, making sure he was as far away from Bucky’s sightline as possible. He leaned against the wood, kneading the bridge of his nose with his fingertips as he considered his next move. 

“Are you okay?”

He raised his head to see a blonde woman looking at him with concern. She was pretty in that Midwestern America way that wasn’t usually his type. What caught his attention was the spark in her eyes that was vaguely familiar even though Steve was sure she’d never met her before.

“You look like you saw a ghost,” she added with a teasing smile. “This place isn’t on one of those horror tours is it?”

He chuckled, ducking his head slightly in a way he knew was endearing. “That was more of a personal haunting.”

“Ahhhh,” she nodded knowingly. “Ex sighting.”

“Something like that.”

“I’m Sharon.”

“Steve.”

“Well, Steve. My date just informed me they couldn’t make it. If you’re up for a one night only offer, I know a surefire way to exorcise some demons.” 

A slow smile spread across Steve’s face. “Is that an offer to help me out?”

Sharon leaned towards him, her gaze flicking to his mouth before meeting his eyes. “I’ve been told I’m pretty neighborly.”

-

It took Steve ten disoriented blinks before he realized that the reason his nightstand was missing was because he was in Wanda’s guest room back in New York. It took him another excruciating thirty seconds before he finally found the reason for the jackhammering in his skull.

He grabbed his phone from where it was rattling against the hardwood floor and answered it with a sound that resembled _grlowh_?

“Darling,” a much too chipper voice answered.

“Peggy?”

“I seem to have woken you.”

“Yeah, what time is it?” 

“How could I possibly know that? You’re across the Atlantic.”

It was definitely some form of AM. There was a vague memory of taking a cab back to Brooklyn from Sharon’s place. Everything after that was stuck behind the fog stubbornly clogging his brain.

Steve grunted, peered at his phone and pulled his pillow over his head when he saw the time. “It’s just past five, Pegs.”

“Is it? It’s quite late here. Just wanted to check up on my favorite art curator. See how you’re coping. Ask why that shoddy gossip account is saying you shagged my niece?”

“I’m hungover and jetlagged,” Steve said, voice muffled by the pillow. “Explain.”

Peggy adopted an obnoxious American accent. _“Spotted: Our old debate and chess club captain arriving at JFK then heading straight to House of M to meet his welcome entourage. A boring Thirsty Thursday hook up. If not for that rumor that Cap was engaged to her aunt.”_

A number of things caused Steve’s hangover headache to evolve into a full blown migraine. Gossip Girl was back, his fake engagement with Peggy had spread further than he thought, and who the hell still cared what he was doing anyway? But the one that floated to the top was: “Wait, Sharon’s your _niece_?”

“Technically. My step-brother’s eldest from a previous relationship. An unimportant detail aside from me forever taking the mickey out of you for this. That paparazzi photo didn’t do either of you justice.”

“She’s not paparazzi,” Steve grumbled. Gossip Girl was one relic from high school he hadn’t been sad to see die out. The last he’d heard she’d sold her website which TMZ had tried and failed to turn into something more lucrative.

Curious, Steve grabbed his Starkpad and googled Gossip Girl. He tapped his finger against its side consideringly, when all he got back was the TMZ site and a few decade-old articles.

“Where did you say you saw the post again?”

Despite his forced casual tone, he could hear the smirk in Peggy’s voice. “Your Gossip Girl is on a new app called Insight. Don’t spend your day stalking. My social calendar is too packed to fly all the way to New York with a pint of Cherry Garcia.”

“We have those here, and I was a dumb kid,” Steve said, choosing not to mention exactly how much of that dumb kid had resurfaced the instant he laid eyes on Bucky. 

“Hardly. More like dumb _adult_ ,” Peggy teased fondly. “Just try to come back in one piece.”

They hung up and he immediately started the download on his phone. He searched for Gossip Girl’s account after signing up, unsurprised to see that despite the account being barely a month old, her feed was already full of coyly written updates and spotted reports.

He scrolled to the beginning of the account, stopping when he saw an old photo of Bucky, Nat, Tony and Rhodey. 

_“Nothing like a crisp, autumn morning for a stroll down memory lane. First up, our favorite foursome. Let’s see who’s still on the island, who’s in prison, and who turned out exactly like their parents?_

_Almost forgot. On the advice of my lawyers, everyone’s getting new names: Iron Man, War Machine, Winter Soldier and Black Widow. Who’s who? I’m sure you can figure it out.”_

Without anyone there to judge him, Steve skipped everyone else to the update about Bucky.

_“It’s been years since the Belle of the Ball became a Diva Divorcé, but we’ve yet to learn why our Class Couple finally called it quits. Rumor has it one of them was just following orders. Sounds downright cold, Winter Soldier.”_

Steve stared at the photo that accompanied the text. It was the photo they’d used for their original engagement announcement, Bucky and Rumlow’s bodies turned towards each other with their heads facing the camera, appearing every inch the perfect couple. It was also the one that Steve would have pinned to a dart board — if he was any good at darts. 

With a disgusted grunt, Steve threw his phone to the end of the bed, not even bothering to pick it up when it tipped over and fell back onto the floor.

It was going to be fine. He’d promised Wanda two weeks. If whatever she needed help with could be done before that, he could head back home and focus on his art and his work and well, it was mostly _work_ if he was being honest.

It was going to be _fine._

Steve repeated the thought in his head like a mantra, hoping it would lull him back to sleep. When that didn’t happen he did what any sane, hungover and jetlagged person would do at barely six in the morning. He dug out his running shoes from his luggage and went for a run.

-

Wanda’s neighborhood was fancier than the one they grew up in but it was still Brooklyn and it was easy enough to find his way, remembering old haunts and marveling at changes that had happened in the years he’d been gone.

The crisp autumn air did wonders for his headache and by the time Steve was rounding the corner back to Wanda’s he was actually in a good mood. He needed to make it a point to visit more often. Maybe even talk Wanda and Doc into spending Christmas in New York this year. 

Steve pulled at his sweat-drenched shirt as he bounded up the steps of the walk-up, his stomach growling happily when the smell of pancakes hit him as he opened the door. Wanda had messaged him the night before saying she was crashing on her office couch, and promised she’d make up for their aborted dinner with breakfast.

What she failed to mention were the faces from his past that would be joining them. 

For a moment Steve wondered if he’d been sucked into a wormhole and dropped back in the middle of high school. Natasha, Tony and Rhodey were sitting around the dinner table while Bucky was leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, a cool expression on his face as he looked at Steve.

Tony was the first one to acknowledge him, walking over with an extended hand. “Tony Stark, nice to meet you.”

It took him a second to register Tony’s presence, his brain still tripping over seeing Bucky twice now in the space of 24 hours. He scowled when Tony continued to smile at him expectantly. “I went to school with you, Stark,” Steve reminded him. “You tried to get me expelled twice.”

“There were many people I tried to get expelled. You’re not special,” Tony muttered.

“Jesus, Tony,” Rhodey said, pushing him back towards the table. He moved as if to give Steve a hug, then after taking in Steve’s sweaty state, thought better of it and clasped his hand instead. “Hey man, good to see you stateside.”

“Ignore him. We all do,” Natasha added, giving Steve a kiss on the cheek hello. “Wanda’s been trying to call you all morning.”

“I left my phone,” Steve said, still distracted with the way Bucky was just standing there, eyes shuttered. The cursed engagement photo flashed across his mind, and it was suddenly imperative that Steve find his sister so he could kill her. “Where _is_ Wanda?” he asked Natasha then turned to Rhodey. “And what are you all doing here?”

“She had to grab something from the bodega across the street. Why don’t you take a shower and we’ll explain when you get back,” Rhodey said with a reassuring smile that did not reassure Steve one bit.

He did as was suggested though, taking a detour to grab his phone before locking himself in the bathroom and turning on the shower as he called Wanda.

“Oh my god, where have you been?” Wanda asked as soon as she picked up.

“I went for a run. Wha—”

“Shit,” Wanda swore, cutting him off. “Okay, I was going to tell you last night but the favor I need? It involves Bucky.”

“That much is obvious _now._ ”

“You’re back in my apartment,” Wanda said, the wince clear in her voice.

“ _Yes_ ,” Steve hissed, running a hand through his hair. “You couldn’t have mentioned this last night?”

“I wanted to break the news to you gently. You know I’d never deliberately ambush you like this.”

Steve huffed, still annoyed despite knowing the truth in her words. “You owe me a year’s worth of meals.”

He took the fastest shower in his life, refusing out of pure spite to even fix his hair knowing it would annoy Bucky.

Wanda was back by the time he was done, the table bursting with fruits, waffles, pancakes and a couple of pitchers of mimosas. A pancake bribe was one thing, but a full breakfast spread meant Wanda was bringing out the big guns. 

“What’s going on?” Steve asked, narrowing his eyes at all of them, but especially at Wanda.

She gave him the most innocent Bambi eyes he’d ever seen. Worse than the time she’d accidentally broken her classmate’s arm and had tried to convince him not to tell Doc. “No big deal. We just need your particular expertise for a situation we’re in.”

“Spit it out.”

“We need you to authenticate a fake painting.”

Steve stared at her. “That’s a felony.”

Wanda arched an eyebrow at him as if to say _‘You’re going to lecture me about breaking the law_?’ which, okay, fair enough.

-

The problem:

A conglomerate called Hydra had been plotting hostile takeovers and was targeting several companies, including Stark Enterprises and the partly Barnes-owned Triskelion Communications.

They already knew who was behind it: Alexander Pierce, telecommunications mogul, much loved philanthropist and Bucky’s half-uncle.

What they needed was proof.

The solution:

A harebrained plan that included Steve posing as a consulting curator for Pierce’s personal art collection, getting a fake with Tony’s tech embedded in it displayed in Pierce’s office, and using it to gather intelligence so they could take Pierce down.

Because apparently Steve was right. He _had_ been transported right back to high school.

-

Steve was starting to regret not drying his hair properly. He brushed it away from his eyes, mainly so he could continue to massage the bridge of his nose. He’d been in New York for less than twenty four hours and he was already back to that old habit.

“I remember you now!” Tony said with a snap of his fingers. “I’d recognize that judgmental _I’m disappointed in all of you_ face anywhere. What happened to Skinny Steve? Did you fall into a vat of steroids or something?”

With a long-suffering sigh, Rhodey grabbed Tony and sat him down. “Drink,” he commanded, placing a mimosa flute in front of Tony. 

Natasha placed a second one near Tony for good measure before focusing her attention back to Steve.

“Pierce is dangerous,” she said. “Rhodey’s put a lot of work into making sure Winifred’s company is safe, but Pierce still has a significant portion of Triskelion’s controlling stocks. We don’t know his exact plans, but we know he’s targeting Bucky next.”

“Why would your uncle do this to you?” Steve asked, talking to Bucky for the first time. 

“Because he’s an evil bastard,” Bucky said without inflection. “He’s Dolores Umbridge in better suits.”

The wrinkles on Steve’s brow deepened. He wasn’t in a place to question Bucky’s assessment of his uncle, but Pierce had been a de-facto paternal figure to Bucky all through school. He’d fawned over him like Bucky was his own son, cheering him on at every game, attending every awards ceremony no matter how small. None of it made sense.

Correctly interpreting Steve's silence, Bucky gave a humourless laugh. “A lot has changed. My uncle still thinks he has me under his thumb, but he’s suspicious.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I went against his wishes when I divorced Brock,” Bucky said. The hard look in his eyes suggested there was more to the story than an old-fashioned relative wanting _kids these days_ to uphold their marital vows. “He’s still pushing for us to reconcile. If I didn’t wish the man immeasurable pain every single night, I’d just convince my family to take the buyout.”

“That and the fact that hundreds and thousands of people will be out of jobs if Pierce gets his way,” Rhodey pointed out. “Hydra has triggered mass layoffs in every company they’ve taken over. It just hasn’t been big news yet because—”

“Pierce has been covering it up.” Steve clenched his jaw when Rhodey nodded. That he’d do what they were asking was a foregone conclusion. It wasn’t in his nature to stand idly by, especially when there was a way for him to prevent someone’s suffering.

What he didn’t understand was what _Wanda_ had to do with all this.

She bit her lip, scrunching her nose slightly when he asked. A tell for when she was trying to tamp down her guilt. “There’s a lot we still need to talk about, but the short version is that Bucky’s my silent business partner. House of M isn’t directly tied to Triskelion, but Pierce is out for blood. He’s going after everything Bucky owns.”

A torrent of emotions flickered across Bucky’s eyes. It wasn’t until that moment that Steve realized it wasn’t just Bucky’s presence that was bothering him. Bucky had always been guarded, but he’d still been animated, using an overabundance of charisma and his sharp-wit to charm and disarm. Now it was like all the warmth that used to simmer below the surface had iced right over.

What Bucky allowed the world to see now was an absolute defiance, like a prince ready to ride into battle. The instinct to ride right by his side flared inside Steve terrifyingly easily, but there was no way he could say no. Whatever bad history there was between him and Bucky paled in comparison to the impact of losing both Triskelion and Stark Enterprises.

He nodded. “I’m in, but we’re not selling him a fake. I’m not going to harm an artist like that. I know a guy who knows a guy.”

“Fine,” Nat said. “First things first. You and Bucky will need to be seen together. That way it’ll be organic when he recommends you to Pierce. I doubt Pierce reads Gossip Girl, but his assistant likes to name drop whoever’s on the Daily Bugle’s Page Six column.”

“Good old fashioned nepotism.” Tony grinned, rubbing his hands together like the maniac he was. “Coincidentally, I’m throwing a party at House of M tomorrow.”

“I’m not a McDonalds, Stark!” Wanda squeaked in panic.

“I’ll pay triple?”

“Fine,” she sighed, already pulling out her phone. “My people might need the extra cash if this doesn’t work out.”

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before moving on to the next chapter please check out:
> 
> The perfect Bucky and Steve mood board from askmeaboutmyoctopustheory: <https://twitter.com/AskAboutOcto/status/1321614911227658240>
> 
> An incredible gif set of one of my favorite scenes from anisstaranise: <https://anisstaranise.tumblr.com/post/633271466612375552/buckys-hand-was-still-clutched-in-his-but-his>


	2. Chapter 2

_Just got word that Iron Man is hosting an impromptu bash. If you have to ask why then you must be new here._ _IM has never needed a reason to throw cash around._

_-_

“On your left, asshole.”

Steve had a wide grin on his face before he even turned around. He placed his drink safely on the bar the staff had set up in the main dining area before grabbing Sam in a crushing hug that forced an undignified squawk out of him.

“Going around stealing people’s lines now?” Steve asked as soon as he released Sam, who glared at him as he smoothed out the new wrinkles on his suit jacket.

“You’re lucky I missed you. Don’t think I’ve forgiven you for flying Delta and dissing the family.”

“Your dad owns an airline. You’re making it sound like you’re in the mafia,” Steve said, motioning at the bartender. Sam put in his order, giving the guy a charming smile as a _thank you_ which caused Steve to roll his eyes. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

“You’ve changed plenty,” Sam chuckled. “Although, the two of us forced to attend a Stark party? Brings me back.”

To be fair it wasn’t so much a Tony Stark party as it was a party that Tony just happened to be paying for. He’d been to a couple of actual _Tony Stark Parties_ in his youth and only one of them hadn’t ended with some sort of explosion. There was no way Wanda would allow that to happen in House of M.

“I’m only here as a favor,” Steve said. He clasped a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “And I actually need one from you too.”

They parked themselves by the side of the bar while Steve filled him in. It wasn’t hard to get Sam on board, their conversation transitioning quickly from subterfuge to Sam’s tales about setting up the The Falcon Foundation. With Sam there, Steve almost forgot that there was an ulterior motive for the party. A relief that was all too short-lived.

Bucky materialized at Steve’s side with a forced polite smile. “Excuse us, Wilson. Rogers and I have some catching up to do.”

The look Sam gave Steve declared that Steve had been weighed, measured and found to be an utter fool.

“Maybe things haven’t changed as much as I thought.” Sam said, patting Steve’s shoulder before walking away.

Bucky made a disgruntled face at Sam, but ignored him in favor of pulling Steve in the other direction, Steve’s drink sloshing dangerously as they went. When they were at a location Bucky deemed appropriate he stopped and raised his eyebrows at Steve expectantly.

“What?” Steve asked, more than a little annoyed at being manhandled. That Bucky appeared warm and inviting in a cashmere sweater and pants didn’t help. It just made Steve glower at him harder.

Bucky huffed impatiently, which was rich considering it was Steve who was being forced to be in his company. “I’m doing this for your sister as much as for me, Rogers. The least you can do is not make it so painful. Now talk to me.”

It was like his jaw clenched shut on reflex. If there was one way to make Steve do the opposite of something, it was to tell him he _had_ to do it.

The eyeroll Bucky gave him said he knew exactly what Steve was thinking. “If you play along, this will all go much quicker and you can go back to hating me from a distance.”

“Fine,” Steve gritted out. “How’ve you been, Buck?”

“Shitty.” Bucky said, plucking Steve’s drink from his hand and taking a sip before Steve could protest. He made a face then passed it back to Steve. “And you?”

“My life’s been pretty good before you came along actually,” Steve said snidely, surprised when Bucky gave a low, warm chuckle. Unfortunately the butterflies that were suddenly pestering Steve’s stomach seemed to be a Pavlovian response.

“I’m glad it worked out for you,” Bucky said, sincerely. “You’ve always wanted to surround yourself with art.”

“I got lucky. Peggy was the one who got me the job,” Steve admitted.

This time, Bucky’s smile was syrupy sweet. “I forgot you have a thing for Carters. The local one though? Isn’t she a little too Girl Next Door for you?” 

“My previous choices left much to be desired,” Steve shot back. 

Bucky didn’t as much as bristle. “Some people do lower their standards with age.”

It was ridiculous, but Steve couldn’t keep the beginnings of a smile off his face. Despite how hurt he still was, the back and forth was almost nostalgic. Comforting in its familiarity. The soft smile Bucky gave him made it clear the same thought had settled in his head.

Bucky opened his mouth as if to say something, but the sound of phones vibrating followed by dozens of voices murmuring broke their fragile ceasefire. Steve fished out his phone the same time that Bucky did.

_Spotted: A gatecrasher. Stay tuned for fireworks._

Completely in sync, Steve and Bucky first glanced at each other then towards the restaurant lobby just as Rumlow swaggered into the main dining room, a harried MJ right behind him. 

“Sir, this is a private function,” she insisted, any semblance of her customer service face gone. MJ was ready to punch him.

Steve fully understood. There were two types of people who Steve would always gladly punch in the face. Nazis and right-wing Republicans. Brock Rumlow was the worst kind of both.

The desire to punch him increased tenfold when Rumlow zeroed in on Bucky, strutting into his personal space, cocky, arrogant and obviously drunk.

“Let’s get out of here, babe,” Rumlow said, pulling Bucky close. “You shouldn’t be hanging out with these losers.”

“Get off me,” Bucky gritted out, unmoving. 

Steve would have left them to it if he hadn’t noticed the way Bucky’s cheeks had drained of color, jaw clenched tight even while his eyes maintained their cool facade. Bucky tried to pull away from Rulow, shifting towards Steve and that was all it took to spur Steve into action.

“Excuse us. We’re in the middle of a conversation,” Steve said with a forced smile. He stepped up to them, subtly extracting Bucky with a strong grip on Rumlow’s arm. It was more surprise than anything else that caused Rumlow to let go of Bucky who would have stumbled if not for Steve’s steadying hand on his back.

Rumlow gave Steve a once over, eyes narrowed before asking Bucky. “Who the fuck is this?”

“Steve Rogers,” Steve answered for himself. “I think we’ve met a couple of times.”

“ _Rogers?_ ” Rumlow asked with a derisive laugh. He patted Steve on the bicep and for a second Steve seriously considered ripping his arm off. “What? You got buff and suddenly Bucky’s giving you the time of day? Don’t think I didn’t notice you’ve had a hard on for my guy since high school.”

“I’m not _your guy_ ,” Bucky snapped. He was practically leaning on Steve, but at least color had started to return to his face. “It’s none of your business who I’m with.”

Rumlow sneered. “So you two are dating now?”

The thing was, Steve had been in the exact same situation before when a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea exploded into reality. Only it had been him, Peggy and a misogynistic head of state who had wrongly assumed Steve had been the one who put the engagement ring on Peggy’s finger. The butthead of state, as they’d immaturely started calling him, had gone on and on about the woman’s role in the house and how Peggy was lucky to have bagged herself a strong, good looking fellow.

Peggy had smiled angelically and informed the man that while she and Steve had been engaged once, she had left him and run off with an American theater actress who had led her into a life of sin. The fallout was worth it just to watch the horror on the man’s face.

And it was that incident that gave Steve his own terrible, horrible, no good, _very bad_ idea.

He took Bucky’s hand and told Rumlow, “Yes, actually. We’ve been together for a while.”

-

_Did I say fireworks? I meant bombshells. We’d been wondering about these two since WS started hanging out with someone from an outer borough, but now we finally have our answer. I’d be careful if I were you WS. Whatever your relationship status, your ex still has a bone to pick with you. And this is one guy you don’t want to cross._

_-_

“What the fuck was that?” Wanda asked later during the cab ride home.

“A bad idea,” he summarized.

“Clearly.”

Steve groaned, banging his head against the headrest. He really needed to learn to keep his mouth shut.

-

_Spotted: WS grabbing a slice on the wrong side of the bridge. Dinner in Dumbo with the boyfriend? Or are there other secrets you’re keeping from us?_

-

If the Gossip Girl blast had arrived five minutes earlier, Steve would have been on his way to the other side of the city faster than he can say ‘James Buchanan Barnes’. Instead, he was towel drying his hair when he answered the door and found Bucky standing there holding a box in his hands, his Starkpad placed precariously on top.

“Good evening,” Bucky said, pushing past a dumbfounded Steve and heading straight for the dining table.

He’d been studiously avoiding Bucky since the night of the party. Security had made quick work of throwing Rumlow out and Nat had disappeared with Bucky into Wanda’s office only for them to appear ten minutes later, pleasant and put-together like nothing had happened. As glad as he was that Bucky was okay, he hadn’t been willing to stick around when he’d been a casualty of that particular talent. He hadn’t even wanted to _think_ about the ditch he’d dug for himself with the lie he’d told Rumlow.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked with a resigned sigh as he closed the door.

“Bribing my boyfriend.” Bucky opened the box with a flourish displaying a large pizza Steve begrudgingly admitted smelled good.

“No,” Steve said, partly to the box, but mostly to Bucky. “We’re not doing this.”

“Hey, you’re the genius who got us in this mess. I say we just make the most of it.” 

Bucky placed the pizza and his tablet on the table, giving him a smile which Steve categorized as _‘I’m up to no good, but you should trust me because I have killer blue eyes and a strong chin and I would never lead you astray’_ , except he knew _exactly_ what kind of trouble Bucky could lead them into, and while Steve was willing to commit art forgery, fake dating Bucky was a bridge too far even for his impressive savior complex.

“I’m getting us out of it,” Steve informed him, “I’m leaving a tip for Gossip Girl that we broke up.” 

“You can’t,” Bucky said promptly. “DB Page Six has already picked it up. We’re a blurb next to a couple of paragraphs about the supposed love child of the former King of Wakanda's dead brother. I’ve also arranged for you to be my plus one to my cousin’s baby gender reveal party on Saturday.”

The expression on Steve’s face showed exactly how he felt about _that_.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Don’t start. She’s from the Pierce side of the family so she lacks both taste and any semblance of a moral compass. Besides, it’s the perfect occasion to introduce you to my uncle.”

“Fine.” Steve beckoned towards the door. “Thank you for the pizza, you can leave now.”

Ignoring Steve’s perfectly polite _‘good day, sir’_ face. Bucky sat down at the table and opened his Starkpad. “Not until we’re done with homework aka _backstory_.” 

“We met in high school, now we’re dating. The end,” Steve said, gesturing towards the door once more.

Bucky glared up at him. “Do you store your pigheadedness in those muscles? Is that why they’ve grown exponentially? Can you please sit down, Rogers? Twenty minutes isn’t going to kill you.”

Much to Steve’s annoyance, the ensuing staredown resulted in him capitulating and sitting on the seat perpendicular to Bucky with a huff. There were only a handful of people who could wear down Steve’s stubborn streak, and unfortunately one of them was Bucky.

Not that it meant he was going down without a fight. He deliberately left his wet towel on the back of one of Wanda’s custom rosewood chairs, smiling inwardly when he saw Bucky scowl at it.

“Nat wrote us some guide questions,” Bucky said, sliding the tablet over to him. He narrowed his eyes further at the towel and Steve counted to three in his head before Bucky stood up, grabbed the towel and marched off to the bathroom.

Chuckling smugly to himself, Steve picked up the tablet and accidentally clicked out of the document. He tapped on the file named ‘ _For Steve’_ which was a whole series of questions that included: _What do you value most in a significant other? What is your dream date? On a scale of 1 to 10 how easily would you forgive the love of your life if they did something really bad? What flavor of ice cream is your favorite?_

He stared at the list, then at Bucky who was sliding into the chair next to him. “Did she get all this from a Cosmo dating quiz?”

Bucky peeked at what he was reading then grabbed the Starkpad from him. A faint tinge of pink colored the top of his cheeks. “That’s— you know, just ignore that. Tony and Rhodey are idiots.” He passed the tablet back to Steve. “Here.”

“Answer the 3 W’s and 1 H,” Steve read. That definitely sounded more like Nat. He gave Bucky an obnoxious smile. “How about we stick to what we know? Four years ago. Manhattan. We reconnected during Wanda’s opening, but then we lie and say you weren’t a total jerk.”

A slight pursing of lips was Bucky’s only acknowledgement of the jab. He took the tablet from Steve, pulled the pen from its holster and started making a list. “No, that’s not going to work. Let’s go with: We ran into each other in Paris.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “Paris? _Still?”_

“It’s my second favorite city. Not to mention it’s the reason for my entire existence,” Bucky said as if Steve needed reminding. He’d already been an audience to several retellings of how Bucky’s parents had met in Paris.

An unwelcome fondness welled up inside Steve at the memory of Bucky’s voice always turning dreamy whenever he talked about his parents first meeting. The saga of George and Winifred’s romance was epic and even if Steve had never met George, he’d been envious of the love the Barnes had shared.

Shaking it off, Steve leaned over and pulled up the calendar on the tablet. “If we reconnected in Paris, then it would have happened last spring cause I was doing a program with the Sorbonne,” he looked up when Bucky made an offended sound. “Which you knew. _Of course,_ you did.”

“I’m not going to suggest that we met in Paris unless there’s evidence that we were there at the same time. You’re not talking to an amateur,” Bucky said with a proud tilt of his head. He checked off _When_ and _Where_ in the list he’d made. Next to it were neat bulleted notes that Steve could only assume were additional details he’d soon have to memorize.

“ _How_ and _why_ is next,” Steve read off the list. “I don’t think your uncle’s actually going to ask us that.”

“No, but my aunts and cousins might, and Uncle Frankie _definitely_ will.”

Steve shrugged. “Doesn’t have to be complicated. We ran into each other and started talking.

The disgusted moue of Bucky's mouth almost made him laugh. One of the greatest tricks Bucky ever pulled was convincing everyone he wasn’t a huge nerd.

“I’m not writing an aria about all the good reasons for dating you,” Steve said with a sarcastic smile. “My creativity has its limits.”

“That’s okay, I’m creative enough for both of us,” Bucky said, breezily. He tapped the Starkpen against his chin then started scribbling, “We had the age old argument of romanticism versus neoclassicism which you suggested we finish over lunch. When we still weren’t done I was the one who suggested we continue it at dinner.”

It wasn’t hard to imagine. Even when they were friends they’d both had strong opinions about art, so that even a passing mention of a film or book became hour-long discussions.

“Well, you’d never pass up the chance for dessert,” Steve added which Bucky acknowledged with an unapologetic shrug. “So dinner turned to dessert which turned into us walking around—”

“—until it was past midnight and you realized that you had an early class,” Bucky finished.

“Oh come on, you _really_ think I’d cut a great date short for an early class?”

“Obviously _I_ would make you because education is important, Rogers.”

Steve made an obnoxious face at him and Bucky wrinkled his nose in response. It was so childish that it prompted a real smile from Steve.

He took the pen from Bucky and leaned into his space to scribble the name of a class and professor on the tablet. “You made us go home, so the following morning I snuck you into the talk I had to attend for class, where we were almost immediately kicked out because you goaded me into arguing with the speaker.”

Bucky scoffed. “Like you need any encouragement from me to start a fight.”

“So instead we went for brunch crêpes,” Steve added, ignoring Bucky’s commentary to write down the name of a cafe, smiling at the memory of horribly kitschy furniture and delicious food. “I ate here almost every day. You’d have hated the decor, but I always wanted to bring you there.”

Steve froze when he realized what he’d just said. The problem with him and Bucky was that as hard as he’d tried, every single cell in his body refused to consider Bucky as alien. Sooner or later it betrayed him and made him say embarrassing things like _that._

Before Bucky could respond, or worse, before Steve could shove his foot in his mouth yet _again_ , he pushed away from the table, eyes focusing anywhere except Bucky.

“That should do, right? Great! Thank you for your time,” Steve babbled. He wasn’t quite sure what was coming out of his mouth, but he would have time to beat himself up about that later. 

He’d barely made it two steps before there was a loud scraping of a chair against the floor.

“You’re seriously going to bolt every time you forget you’re mad at me?” Bucky asked, anger and frustration lacing his every word. “Oh wait. That’s right. I forgot that this is how you _always_ deal with complicated emotions.”

Steve stopped and gaped in disbelief, hurt and anger lighting a fire inside him. “You _slept_ with me, _left_ me in your own apartment with nothing but a two-word Dear John letter on your monogrammed stationery, and you’re accusing _me_ of running away?”

“You did!” Bucky yelled. “I treated you like a friend even though you were from the ungentrified side of Brooklyn and didn’t even know a cravat from a necktie, and in return you ghosted me when I needed you the most because _you_ couldn’t deal with your undying love for me!”

“I never said _undying_ ,” Steve protested, refusing to acknowledge the blush engulfing his whole face. “It was a stupid crush.”

“Whatever! You threw away our friendship because you had the emotional fortitude of a marshmallow, and I made the mistake of treating you like a one night stand. That should make us even! How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?”

“Aside from that note you left, you haven’t actually _said_ you’re sorry,” Steve yelled back.

“Well I _am,_ okay! I didn’t mean for any of that—” Bucky stopped but the sucker punch from his aborted sentence still hit Steve squarely in the gut.

He drew in a heavy breath, placing his hands on his hips and focused on the feeling of his fingers digging into his flesh instead of the way his entire torso felt torn open and exposed. “You didn’t mean to sleep with me.”

“I certainly didn’t plan on it,” Bucky said quietly. “I’d just ended a really fucked up relationship and then you were there and you were saying all these wonderful things.” He looked at Steve, a hauntingly sad smile on his face. “That night had been the one good night I’d had in years. Not just because of my divorce, but because _you_ were there. You were my friend, my best friend aside from Nat. You were probably the healthiest relationship I’ve ever had in my entire life, and being with you made me feel safe. After Brock, after _everything_ , I wanted that and I hurt you in the process.”

Any trace of Bucky’s emotionless mask had been ripped off. The regret in his eyes was like hot lead through Steve’s heart, but there was also a lingering misery there. Steve wondered with a pang of guilt if he’d have recognized it back then too. Maybe if he hadn’t been caught up with just wanting to be with Bucky rather than being there _for_ him. If he’d seen things without the blinders of alcohol and unrequited love. Maybe if he had, he’d have seen that what Bucky needed most was a friend.

“You’re right,” Steve finally said.

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Did you hurt yourself saying that?”

“I’m trying to bury the hatchet, so maybe stop hacking me with it for one second?” Steve asked.

“Sorry, habit,” Bucky said, actually chastened. “Continue.”

Steve took a step towards Bucky then repeated. “You’re right. You and I both made selfish decisions, but you’re also right that there’s more to our relationship than those mistakes. You were my best friend too, Buck. I’ve missed my friend.”

“I’ve missed you too, Rogers,” Bucky admitted.

They smiled at each other for one cheesily tender moment, then Bucky frowned, an exaggerated seriousness in his eyes. “I do have one question. Since we’re friends again, does that entitle me to at least a slice?”

Steve ducked his head and laughed. “You want my pizza, you have to earn it Barnes.”

The dejected, doe-eyed look Bucky gave him was unfairly potent.

“One,” Steve conceded, raising a finger.

They’d demolished the pizza before Steve remembered that for the sake of his own heart, he’d promised to keep Bucky at arm’s length. Then again, he’d never been able to deny Bucky anything before. His heart had been a lost cause the moment he stepped on the plane.

-

 **Steve to Peggy:** be back in ten days I’ll bring the ice cream

 **Peggy to Steve:** You lovesick bloody idiot!

 **Peggy to Steve:** I’ll make sure Dumdum’s liquor cabinet is well-stocked.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anisstaranise is magic and created this for chapter 2: https://anisstaranise.tumblr.com/post/633325021360685056/steve-froze-when-he-realized-what-hed-just-said


	3. Chapter 3

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Steve stared up at the chrome monstrosity that was The Rumlow Regency. Not only was it a stupid name for a hotel, it was also an eyesore. A gaudy, towering building constructed on an unofficial city landmark despite extensive neighborhood protests. A fact he knew only because Rumlow had bragged about his family’s coup all through their sophomore year.

Bucky pulled him into the lobby and towards the upper floors. “The Pierce clan unfortunately still see Brock as family,” he said, in a clipped tone. “I didn’t tell you the party was here because I knew you would be difficult about it.” 

“Right, because _I’m_ the one who’ll make a scene,” Steve replied with no bite. It was hard to fall back on their usual banter when Steve had seen how Bucky gradually sank into himself as they got closer to the hotel. Now that they were actually there, Bucky held himself like he was wearing a suit of armor instead of, as Bucky had informed him snootily, a Brunello Cucinelli blazer and Ralph Lauren pants. 

”I have it on good authority that Brock’s somewhere in Asia,” Bucky assured him.

“Any chance he’ll be stuck there for the next couple of years?”

“If only I was that lucky,” Bucky scoffed. “He’ll be back as soon as he’s done scamming farmers out of their land to develop a beach resort or whatever.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“You’re telling me. He likes to roleplay as Christopher Columbus.”

Steve was pretty sure his face was a mirror image of the vomiting emoji, green tint and all. “ _Please_ feel free to never ever share that kind of information with me ever again.”

He was too busy mentally scrubbing bleach into his brain to notice where they were headed until they were walking through the doors. It wasn’t the grand ballroom, but it was definitely _a_ ballroom decked out in varying shades of pink and blue that Steve would have considered tastefully done if it wasn’t for the fact that they were at a damn _gender reveal party._

One of the ninth circles of hell was definitely themed the same way.

“Seriously?” was all he could say to Bucky as he gaped at the excessive display.

To his credit Bucky commisserated. “I know. Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll burn down Brock’s hotel. Think about that and smile because my cousin’s husband is headed this way.”

“James, glad you could make it,” a pinch-faced man with greasy hair greeted them in that friendly yet disingenuous way Steve always associated with politicians and car salesmen.

“Wouldn’t miss the big announcement,” Bucky replied with a well-faked smile of his own. He turned to Steve. “Jack Rollins is my cousin Kayleigh’s husband and the happy father-to-be. Jack, this is my boyfriend, Steve.”

Steve had to tamp down the butterflies suddenly doing the mamba in his stomach when Bucky called him his boyfriend. He shook Jack’s hand who in turn just gave him a cursory smile.

“I didn’t know you were dating someone,” Jack told Bucky in a tone that made it clear that if it came down to a fist fight he was putting all his money on Rumlow. “Anyway, we’re waiting for Uncle Alex to start, but he should be here soon. In the meantime, the Senator was asking for you and I think Kayleigh invited one of your classmates, Wade Wilson.”

That was the start of a round of introductions and small talk that had Steve’s head spinning. They had a nice chat catching up with Wade, who Steve remembered to be an excellent lab partner, but after thirty minutes of grip and grin, least two of Bucky’s relatives were vying for Steve’s personal  _ Worst of the Pierces _ list — Aunt Jane who’d badgered Bucky about running for something simply because  _ ‘Gays are in right now’  _ and cousin Ben, who swore up and down that he was a Democrat, but that there should be less government handouts so people can learn how to pull themselves up by their bootstraps.

Steve had to physically bite his tongue so he wouldn’t point out that practically everyone in the room had trust funds set up for them from the moment they were conceived.

The only reason the event was even marginally bearable was, well, _Bucky_.

Even with the veritable emotional fortress surrounding him, Bucky was magnetic, easily coaxing impressed smiles and fond laughter. Bucky had always been captivating, appropriately regal since he’d basically proclaimed himself and Nat school royalty, but while Nat had been more loved, wrapped in a web of sultry mystery that she eventually shed to uncover an honest warmth, Bucky inspired admiration and fear, putting up cold barriers that only the ones he deemed fit could see past. That he’d come to allow Steve that honor was a surprise to them both.

And that was the reason he could see past Bucky’s exceptional performance now.

The change came gradually, but Steve watched as the light in Bucky’s eyes dwindled slightly with every conversation, a wrinkle furrowing his brow like he was fighting to stay rooted in the present.

“Would you mind excusing us?” Steve asked Ryan, the Pierce cousin that had accosted them at the cheese and charcuterie table. He didn’t bother giving a reason, just grabbed their plates and quickly steered Bucky away to a corner.

“We’re not sneaking off to a suite are we?” Bucky joked, but the smile he gave Steve was vacant.

“Are you doing okay?” Steve asked as soon as they were out of earshot. The room had no balconies, but the windows were set into alcoves that at least allowed a little privacy.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied immediately, waving away Steve’s concern. “I just didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“You cheating on me, Barnes?” Steve joked, noting the weak but genuine smile that Bucky threw his way. It was barely there, but it was a start.

“That’s a sure fire way to get me disowned,” Bucky said, “The Pierces do not _do_ cheating scandals. Too pedestrian.”

“Good to know they still have their priorities. Here, eat this,” Steve suggested, handing one of the plates to Bucky. 

Bucky obligingly ate a couple of grapes. “Thank you, by the way. Ryan is the only cousin Becca and I get along with, but he can be overwhelming. He’d sell his own mother down the Potomac if it got him into congress.”

“Isn’t the fact that you’re a _descendant of a former President_ enough?” Steve mocked. Ryan was the best of the Pierce clan so far, but the guy took name-dropping to a whole new level.

“Oh, please. _Two_ former Presidents for the Barneses,” Bucky joked. He chuckled when Steve tried to elbow him good naturedly, capturing Steve’s arm and trapping it against him so that his breath tickled the side of Steve’s neck when he laughed.

Steve had to clench his jaw to stop the shiver that wanted to run through his body. Unfortunately, like the tortured, self-aware artist that he was, Steve had accepted that while he could do right by Bucky and actually be the friend he needed, there was no way out of this mess without it breaking his big, dumb heart.

The teaspoon of self-preservation that still coursed through his veins cast about for anything to distract him from how Bucky may have let go of his arm. He was standing so close that Steve could sketch the swoop of his eyelashes in detail.

“So, um, where are you mom and your sisters anyway?” Steve asked.

“Becca’s on a mission to destroy Ryan Reynolds, who she’s declared is her lifelong nemesis. Mom is at the Paris office until Christmas and the twins are with her planning a new line.”

“I always thought you’d be the one running W Designs by now.”

Steve regretted the words as soon as they came out. Fashion had been Bucky’s life. The foundation for his reign in SHIELD. Their classmates had hidden in broom closets or gone the long way to classes just to avoid Bucky’s critical eye. Steve himself had never understood any of it, but he’d goaded Bucky into more than a dozen passionate rants simply to watch the fire that erupted in him.

Mentioning it now seemed to have the opposite effect. The spark of life that had returned to Bucky’s eyes snuffed out instantly.

“I’m going to need a lot more alcohol for that story,” Bucky said bitterly. 

“You can talk to me, you know?” Without thinking Steve took Bucky’s hand, giving it a squeeze and Steve was grateful to see the sour look on Bucky’s face melting into a soft smile.

“Careful, Rogers. I’m going to start thinking you like me,” Bucky teased

“Not liking you was never the problem,” Steve muttered before he could stop himself.

The apples of Bucky’s cheeks pinked prettily and Steve was desperately glad he was in a ballroom full of people and therefore unable to do something monumentally moronic like _kiss_ Bucky. The opportunity for stupidity was taken away from him when Bucky looked past Steve’s right shoulder, his eyes hardening.

Steve turned around to see the reason they were at the god-forsaken party. His sudden scowl had nothing to do with the man - he barely remembered him from when they were kids - but the way Bucky’s face had gone carefully blank even while his stance had grown rigid. It was body language very familiar to Steve after years of getting passed around from one bad foster home to another.

“Show time,” Bucky muttered. He led them to where Jack was talking to Pierce, Bucky’s gait becoming more confident as they drew close, his smile less tense around the edges. If Bucky felt anything but a deep respect for his uncle, no one would be any the wiser.

“Sir, nice to see you outside of the office,” Bucky said, shaking the man’s hand. He placed a hand on the small of Steve’s back and said, “This is my date, Steve Rogers.”

Steve took satisfaction at the flash of displeasure on the older man’s face, but Pierce concealed it quickly and shook Steve’s hand.

“I believe I met you when you were much younger. I still cross paths with your benefactor occasionally,” Pierce said.

“Doc Erksine’s based in Geneva at the Reed Institute working on his research,” he forced himself to say amiably. Calling the doc his _benefactor_ was one of the many back-handed ways people of the UES made sure to remind him that he was adopted, and he should be grateful to be among them.

Bucky shifted, the hand he’d placed on Steve’s back pressing deeper as if to remind Steve to keep his cool.

“And you?” Pierce asked Steve. “Did you follow his path into medicine?”

He opened his mouth to repeat the story they’d rehearsed, but Bucky suddenly placed a palm on Steve’s chest and said proudly, “Steve is an artist.”

Pierce’s smile was stiff, obviously taking _‘artist’_ to mean _‘vagabond’_. “Good for you.” 

“Bucky’s being generous,” Steve said, leaning into his part as the bashful boyfriend. “I’ve had a couple of exhibits with them, but I actually work for the Pendragon Gallery as a curator.”

It was like the loser label stamped on Steve’s forehead washed right off the moment he mentioned The Pendragon. The gallery was controversial, encouraging politically and environmentally themed exhibits amidst continued boycotts and protests, but it was centuries old and highly regarded. Steve wasn’t surprised that Pierce's respect for an artist was contingent upon the institution that considered their work art.

“I’m an enthusiast myself,” Pierce shared. “Nothing extravagant. A simple collection of classic and contemporary pieces that I keep in my office and my study.”

“You should visit soon,” Steve suggested. “We just received an exceptional collection on loan from Wakanda, and I’m working with some new artists for the Paris gallery — Miles Morales, Piotr Rasputin, Ant-man.”

“Ant-man?” Pierce asked, impressed. “That’s quite a coup.”

Steve’s smile was humble. “If you have time I’d love to show you some pieces he’s created exclusively for the Pendragon.”

“I’ve heard of Morales,” Jack piped up before Pierce could answer. “Is that really the kind of art you want your gallery to be associating with?”

“I’m not sure what you mean by ‘ _that kind of art_ ’?” Steve asked in what he hoped was a polite tone although based on the stiff smile on Bucky’s face Steve completely missed that mark.

Jack shrugged. “His work is no better than graffiti. He’s just a black kid from the ghetto, so no wonder his style is completely urba—”

“Hey, man,” Bucky interrupted, “I think Kayleigh’s looking for you so we can do the big reveal.”

Thankfully, they really were being gathered for whatever gimmick the couple had planned. Jack excused himself while Pierce was swept away by another of Bucky’s relatives.

Steve was still seething as Bucky took his arm and guided him towards one of the tables.

“Eyes on the prize, Rogers,” Bucky reminded him, voice low. “We have bigger fish to defraud.”

-

“You were fantastic,” Bucky said, clasping Steve on the shoulder as they exited the hotel, “You always were a natural at this.”

Steve cringed, remembering all the times he’d almost slammed his foot into his mouth in the past couple of hours. “Don’t know about ‘ _natural’_. I’m just glad he asked me to stop by his office so I don’t have to be around this many Pierces at once.”

“Less of a chance you’ll want to fight every other person you see?” Bucky asked.

“I’m just biding my time. I have a list of all the Pierces I want to take down, and I’ll be whispering it every night before I sleep like Arya Stark.”

Bucky laughed, the sound releasing the knot of tension in Steve’s chest. Bucky had been perfectly charming in Pierce’s presence, but he hadn’t been entirely _there._ His smiles were hollow and his eyes devoid of any real sentiment.

Not like the way he was gazing at Steve now, the corner of his eyes crinkling, his face lit up with affection. The sun was shining down on them in the hotel courtyard, bathing Bucky in a golden sheen that Steve ached to draw. It suddenly hit him that they were done with their fake dating commitment for the day, and just like every moment he’d ever spent with Bucky he didn’t want it to end.

“What’s going on in that thick head of yours, Rogers?” Bucky teased. 

“Sam and I are going to meet that artist I was talking about. Do you wanna come?”

If it was possible Bucky’s smile became even brighter. “I suppose I can bear Wilson’s company for a couple of hours.”

-

_“Meeting the parents is a rite of passage for any couple, but meeting the entire clan at a party in your ex-husband’s hotel? Sounds more like ritual suicide to me. It makes me wonder if our WS is making a statement or if he’s just another fool in love. Better get that pre-nup ready.”_

-

“Oh my god, it’s you.”

Steve stopped rubbing the bridge of his nose and watched as Sam transferred his glower from Bucky to the man who answered the door. Steve wasn’t quite sure why. The guy was your typical hipster type complete with beanie and flannel shirt, which he supposed was reason enough to dislike him. These new Brooklynites were giving his borough a bad name.

Beside Steve, Bucky looked Sam up and down critically. “I wouldn’t say he’s a _god_ exactly. More like a minor deity.”

“Sam, I am begging you to ignore him,” Steve groaned. The hour it took them to get from Manhattan to Bushwick was an unbearable stream of constant bickering. Not enough for him to regret asking Bucky to come along, but it was _close_.

Thankfully Sam did as Steve requested, focusing on scowling at the man. “ _You’re_ Ant-man? The Banksy wannabe that has the Upper East Side’s underpants in a twist?”

“My friends call me Scott,” the man — Scott - said with a friendly smile. “I wouldn’t say Banksy. More Slinkachu only sometimes it’s bigger?”

He opened the rolling door wider to let them in, revealing a cluttered studio with various materials and half-finished pieces. Steve had visited his fair share of artist spaces, but Scott’s was particularly chaotically organized, paths hidden between containers and shelves that concealed just how big the place was.

Steve went over to where Bucky was peering at a miniature installation with pieces the size of Steve’s thumbnail. Sam on the other hand was still fixated on Scott.

“Luis said I wouldn’t believe the guy behind the art, and the dude was right,” Sam said.

Scott stuffed both hands into his jeans pockets and shrugged sheepishly. “Look, about that poker game, man. Beginners luck.”

“That’s right,” Sam said, magnanimously, “and it ain’t ever gonna happen again.”

“Definitely not. Wouldn’t dream of playing with you.” Scott grinned brightly, “Unless it's strip poker.”

Bucky snorted and Scott seemed to finally realize Sam wasn’t alone, his face lighting up with recognition when he turned to Bucky.

“Oh, hey, I know you,” he said to Bucky and then to Steve. “You too. My daughter loves reading about you on Gossip Girl.”

“Hear that, Stevie? We have fans,” Bucky simpered exaggeratedly. Steve gave him a look that said _‘you probably shouldn’t mock the person helping us commit corporate espionage.’_

Fortunately, Scott didn’t notice.

“They’re called shippers,” he corrected Bucky as he moved behind a wall of boxes. He emerged on the other side of the room a couple of minutes later pulling along what Steve would guess was a 10x10 cube bulletproof suitcase.

“Remind me to take a photo with you before you go,” Scott said sunnily as he retracted the handle into the case and placed it on a desk. “My daughter, Cassie, is going to love it. She’s like ten going on fifteen. Anyway, you wanted an Ant-man original so here it is.”

Scott unlatched the top of the case, unveiling a circular building with columns that resembled the New York Stock Exchange, each one bearing impressive detail considering its size. He gently turned the whole thing on its base and half of what was apparently the first layer slipped smoothly inside it’s other halfto reveal another structure. This time an old, decaying bank vault, equally detailed in both its form and the way it captured the essence of ancient relics bearing witness to a rich history. Turning the base once more, the bank vault opened in the same way as the first layer.

The emotion of the piece hit Steve like a punch knocking the air straight out of his chest. The third layer was painted a matte black, resembling an endless void. In the middle was an old high back office chair that had been ripped apart then put back together incorrectly, pieces jutting out at sharp jagged angles. A sinister sort of beauty that was equally terrifying.

“You made this?” Sam asked, impressed but obviously experiencing the same cognitive dissonance Steve was feeling when he looked at the dark piece and then at Scott. There were many artists whose demeanor didn’t match their style, but this was like a labradoodle wielding implements of torture.

“Yeah!” Scott said. “I mean, I’d already started on it before you guys called, so no one’s seen this before.”

Steve shook his head, trying to dislodge the heaviness that the piece elicited. He frowned when he realized that Bucky was still staring at the model’s centerpiece, mesmerized, his face drawn.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked gently.

Bucky’s gaze snapped to Steve. “Fine,” he said brusquely, then asked Scott. “How much do we owe you?”

“Oh no, this one’s for free. Luis told me what you were planning and I’m down for dismantling evil forces that take advantage of the poor and the marginalized. Also, I’ve always had a crush on Robin Hood.”

“Kevin Costner or Cary Elwes?” Sam asked.

“The cartoon fox,” Scott admitted with a sheepish grin. Sam laughed and Scott was not at all subtle about how pleased he was to hear it.

It would have been the perfect time to start ribbing on Sam, but Bucky was still uncharacteristically quiet. It rankled at Steve even after they’d parted ways, and it still weighed heavy on his mind hours later when he was puttering aimlessly around Wanda’s apartment.

Something was obviously wrong, but he and Bucky no longer had the kind of relationship where he could demand answers. All he could do was wait until Bucky was ready to talk, if at all.

A slim box on the shelf caught his eye and Steve quickly fished out his phone before he could chicken out.

“Steve? Are you okay?” Bucky asked as soon as he answered.

“Wanda still has my old copy of Rosemary’s baby.”

There was a pause and then Bucky said, the smile clear in his voice, “You know it’s on Netflix right?”

“I’m a purist,” Steve shrugged, even as he walked towards the guest room to grab his laptop and get in bed. Nostalgia was great and all, but he wasn’t going to try and figure out if Wanda’s old DVD player still worked.

“You’re something alright,” Bucky drawled. “Hold on, let me put it on.”

In the end they spent more time talking than actually watching the movie, and Steve was perfectly fine with that.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware the genealogy of these Presidents are suspect. Just go with it. xoxo


	4. Chapter 4

After a full day spent with Bucky, it was no surprise that Steve’s dreams were a series of non-linear moments that featured Bucky constantly. There was no drama, no worthless ex-husbands or uncles trying to destroy anyone. Just Steve and Bucky spending time together in coffee shops and patisseries, even riding a gondola down the Brooklyn river.

One in particular had Bucky raising goats, which was so completely out of the realm of possibility that Dream Steve called Dream Bucky out on it, causing the dream to immediately morph into a more plausible scenario where they were exploring a science expo.

They were nice, simple dreams that were rudely interrupted when a weight bounced heavily on his bed. Steve cracked open one groggy eye to see Wanda smiling at him brightly, a tray in her hands.

“Good morning,” she said.

Steve didn’t need to look at a clock to know that it was definitely _not_ morning. “No.”

“Wake up,” Wanda whined, jostling his hip with the tray before carefully placing it on the bed. “I haven’t seen you in two days.”

“Whose fault is that?” Steve asked grumpily. He pulled the pillow over his head, but Wanda pried it away from him.

“That’s why I brought you breakfast in bed - Okay, a four-something-in-the-morning snack in bed - but you can sleep later. I need to be at House of M for another twenty hours today cause Pepper has a fundraiser. She says hello by the way.”

Steve peered up at her, curiously. “Are she, Tony and Rhodey still?”

He’d been meaning to ask but hadn’t wanted to come off as nosy, which was hilarious given that Gossip Girl had been hanging over their heads for most of their lives.

“Yeah,” Wanda said, helping herself to some of Steve’s bacon. “I know it’s a secret, but can you believe Tony Stark is in one of the longest relationships we’ve ever known?”

“Not unless I want to spiral into despair about the state of my own love life,” Steve said, finally giving in and sitting up.

Wanda sat cross legged on the bed and gave him a wide smile, “Speaking of _your_ love life.”

“That would be a short conversation, seeing as it’s non-existent,” Steve said, placing the tray on his lap and batting Wanda’s hand away when she tried to steal more bacon.

“Oh, come on. We aren’t allowed to talk about, _you know_. At least tell me what’s been going on with Bucky.”

Steve stuffed a large bite of scrambled eggs in his mouth. Wanda was right, they’d agreed to keep information about their tasks siloed so they’d have plausible deniability if things went south, but that meant the only other news to share was his brilliant _‘I can be your friend while still being madly in love with you because I’ll be in another continent in a couple of weeks so you won’t have to see the fallout’_ plan, and there was no way that discussion would go well.

“May I remind you that _I_ was the one who helped your teenage self realize he was ass backwards in love with Bucky Barnes. I deserve an update,” Wanda demanded, crossing her arms and pouting. It was adorably reminiscent of the petulant face she’d use on him to get her way when they were kids.

“Nothing is happening.” Steve said, allowing himself a little white lie. “We’re friends again. That’s it.”

Wanda rolled her eyes at him. “You do realize I know all your tells? And because you’re _a lying liar who lies_ , we’re going to have that classic TV moment where the little sister chews out her big brother: Stop being a martyr. You’re going to die an old man with a perpetually broken heart.”

“Thanks, sis,” Steve said sarcastically. “I promise if I die it’s not going to be because of a broken heart. There are plenty of other dumb ways to die.”

“And I’m sure you’re familiar with all of them,” Wanda quipped, grinning triumphantly when she successfully stole another piece of bacon. She munched quietly then asked, “You’re being careful, right? I don’t want to save my restaurant, but lose my brother.”

Steve gave her a reassuring smile. “Trust me, it's all going according to plan.”

-

In hindsight, Steve really shouldn’t have said that.

They were all at Bucky’s apartment, Steve barely coherent, head pounding from getting barely four hours of sleep. His pre-dawn breakfast catch-up with Wanda ended abruptly when an email from Pierce’s assistant arrived, informing him that Pierce’s calendar had filled up for the foreseeable future.

An email he couldn’t even access right now because he’d dropped his phone in the damn sewer while getting off the Lyft.

If he was being honest with himself, his clumsiness had been partly due to the lack of sleep, and partly due to the fact that this was his first time coming to Bucky’s apartment since _that night_. It was a small comfort that his headache was drowning out any heartache he was feeling. Almost.

So far it was a bad morning all around, and the part of him that had been raised Catholic fully expected a third bit of rotten luck to hit him upside the head before noon. True to form, he didn’t have to wait long.

Steve was sitting on the chaise with Wanda, cradling the large mug of coffee he’d mostly inhaled when Natasha’s head snapped up from where she’d been furiously texting her assistant to send out feelers to the personal assistant grapevine.

“Did you cheat on Bucky?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at Steve dangerously.

“What? No!” Steve said, defensively before realizing that he _couldn’t_ cheat on Bucky since they weren’t actually dating.

There was a disconcerted beat before Bucky pursed his lips and said one word, “Carter.”

A collective groan went around the room. There was no doubt about it. For anyone who didn’t know the truth, the ‘official’ timeline of events concluded that Steve was in fact a cheater. Steve scowled, decidedly not happy about the smear on his character. 

“We’re going to need a back-up plan,” Rhodey said. “Pierce already hates your guts ‘cause you’re not Rumlow. There’s no way he’ll meet with you if this is still floating around.”

“What if Ant-man just sells it to him directly?” Wanda suggested. 

Steve and Bucky glanced at each other, both of them picturing the painfully-endearing Scott trying to conceal, well, anything.

“Unless we have special tech to minimize all that enthusiasm, I don’t think we’re going to make a convincing spy out of Ant-man.”

“My poor masterpiece, all bugged up with nowhere to go,” Tony said, gazing mournfully at where Scott’s art was sitting on Bucky’s coffee table. Before they were able to break the news, he’d excitedly given tham an explanation of how he’d modified the case and turned it into a specialized faraday cage that would only allow a specific signal to go in or out making his tech virtually undetectable. Telling him the plan was off was a lot like telling a five year old their family trip to Disneyland was cancelled.

Steve drummed his fingers on his knee as he considered their options. He could find a local colleague to sell the piece to Pierce, but there was still no guarantee he’d bite. What they needed was someone who could convince Pierce to do whatever they wanted and yet have Pierce be none the wiser. Someone exceptionally gifted in manipulation and treachery. Someone whose moral compass was so chaotic they wouldn’t ask awkward questions. Steve realized with a sinking heart that he knew just the man for the job, and it just so happened he was in the city.

“I may have our Plan B,” he turned to Wanda. “Give me your phone.”

Wanda immediately handed it over, unlocking it for him, but it still took Steve a few confused taps before he gave up on the unfamiliar interface. “I don’t know how to use this.”

“That’s because it’s a prototype, grandpa. I’ll send you one,” Tony said as Wanda helped Steve pull up the messaging app.

Steve sent out the SOS, along with a silent prayer that the plan wouldn’t blow up in his face. 

Bucky seemed to sense his tension, cocking an eyebrow at him. “I have a feeling I’m not going to be thrilled with this idea.”

Steve was one hundred percent sure he wasn’t. 

-

“Oh. My. God.”

Steve stepped back into the room just as Loki swept out of the elevator, his coat billowing behind him dramatically, signature smirk firmly in place.

“Now, now, Barnes. No need to call me ‘God.’ _‘My Lord’_ would be just fine,” Loki drawled.

Trailing just behind him, Thor headed straight for Steve, enveloping him in his arms in a warm hug. “We’ve missed you, old friend. No one leads us head first into trouble quite like you do.”

“Good to see you too, Thor,” Steve said with a chuckle.

It was a nice reprieve before everyone else rounded on him, a cacophony of voices that wasn’t doing Steve’s headache any good.

“Are you out of your _mind?”_ Rhodey asked, anger blazing in his usually kind eyes.

“Did you forget that Asgardian Asshole challenged Gossip Girl and almost blew up our entire world?” Bucky snarled, the hysteria in his voice rising with every syllable.

Tony nodded, gesticulating wildly between him and Rhodey. “Gossip Girl threatened to out all three of us because of him!”

“She threatened to expose who my real father is,” Natasha added. “And _he_ suggested that I’d secretly had Rumlow’s baby.”

Steve turned to Wanda for help, but she just gave him a look that said _‘They’re right, you’re insane’._ The traitor.

“Trust me. This _will_ work,” Steve said, placatingly. 

None of them showed signs of budging, and Steve couldn’t blame them. Loki had been the other participant in his high school foreign exchange program, and while Steve had so relished his semester in London that he never left, Loki had spent his time at SHIELD attempting to raze it to the ground. The war Loki had started between himself and Gossip Girl resulted in numerous casualties, with Bucky, Nat, Tony and Rhodey receiving the brunt of the damage. The only reason they’d managed to negotiate a ceasefire was because Steve had flown all the way back to New York with Thor.

“It’s going to be fine. Thor will keep him in line this time,” Steve said, gesturing towards the other blonde.

Thor gave them all a cheerful smile, the smile falling when everyone continued to glare. “I assure you I've become very good at keeping my brother in check.”

“Yeah, because I heard you were _sleeping_ with him,” Bucky turned to Loki and snapped, “I thought you were from Asgard not _Alabama_.”

“They’re step-brothers, not actually related,” Steve said, unhelpfully.

Loki tutted at him. “Oh, Steven, you don’t have to go around telling people that. It’s more entertaining when they’re scandalized.” He looked around at the group still glaring openly at him, his smile wide and unphased. “Well, it truly was nice visiting you all, but since we’re obviously unwanted, we’ll just go on our merry way.”

“You owe me,” Steve said when Loki moved to leave.

Loki eyes flicked from Steve to Bucky. “Cashing in your favor for _him_? Are you sure he’s worth it?”

A spike of annoyance stabbed through Steve’s spine at the jab at Bucky. A detail that wasn’t lost on Thor, who clasped a hand on Loki’s nape, leaning in close.

“We undoubtedly owe Steve more than one favor for Mykonos,” Thor said, his voice low.

Steve crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Not to mention Tuscany.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Loki yielded before grinning like a shark at Bucky who was hovering nearby. “You have my word. I’ll do as you require. No funny business.”

“You think we’re going to trust you?”

“Only if you’re as idiotic as you all appear, but I assume you do trust our mutual friend?” Loki asked, challenging Bucky to disagree.

Bucky was still glaring daggers at them, Steve included, but eventually nodded sullenly. A decision that Natasha, Rhodey and Tony all seemed to accept when they didn’t protest as Loki lowered himself onto the couch as if it was a throne.

What they needed Loki to do was simple enough, evidenced by the way Loki yawned theatrically before saying, “It’ll be displayed in his office before sunset.”

“ _Now_ can you leave, or do I have to call the exterminators?” Bucky sniped.

The smile Loki gave Bucky was unsettling even to Steve. “Yes, we must bid our goodbyes.”

Steve rose with them as they stood. “Thank you,” he said, shaking hands with Thor and then with Loki. He raised his eyebrows in surprise when Loki didn’t let go of his hand. “What?”

“I can fix your Carter problem and stop anyone from thinking Barnes and I are in cahoots,” Loki said. “But since no photos from Mykonos survived, we’ll have to recreate one.” He glanced at Thor, who smirked and took out his phone. 

It took Steve a moment to understand what he meant. Before he could say anything, Loki hauled him close, his other hand cupping the back of Steve’s neck, pulling him into a kiss. Steve rolled his eyes as he allowed Loki to kiss him. It wasn’t like it was the first time he’d kissed Loki. It wasn’t even the fourth if he was counting. Loki licked his tongue into Steve’s mouth, the hand that pulled Steve in was now giving his ass a friendly squeeze.

“Okay, stop,” Steve said with an amused huff, pushing Loki away. He shook his head when he saw Thor still filming on his phone. “The two of you really are meant for each other.”

Loki gave Steve a proper handshake, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “We should leave before your Bucky over there scratches my pretty eyes out.”

Steve cringed when he turned and saw what Loki meant. Bucky didn’t look like he’d be satisfied with simple eye-scratching, he looked like he wanted to cut out Loki’s liver then serve it with fava beans and a nice bottle of Chianti.

“I know it seems counterproductive, but he’ll help squash the cheating rumors,” Steve said, wincing when Bucky turned his murder eyes on him. “Buck, I promise it’s not going to make anything worse.”

Bucky didn’t respond, instead he turned his back on Steve and stomped up the stairs, the echoing slam of his bedroom door was still loud enough to make Steve wince.

“I don’t think that’s what he’s mad about,” Thor murmured to Steve, before following Loki out.

-

_An old nemesis came bearing an olive branch. I may have jumped the gun on Cap and his interest in blondes, but this oldie-but-goodie has been verified by the God of Mischief himself. #MischiefAtMykonos_

-

Steve didn’t leave even as everyone else filtered out, knowing it was better to get Bucky to yell at him than to let him stew in his anger. What he didn’t expect was to be regarded with complete silence. Bucky acted like Steve wasn’t even there as he descended the stairs, then lay down on the chaise lounge and cracked open a book.

“You’re not even going to talk to me now?” Steve asked, hands on his hips.

“Maybe I have nothing to say,” Bucky said airily. 

“When have you ever had nothing to say about anything?”

“Rogers, you’re confusing me with you.”

Steve sat by Bucky’s feet on the chaise, Bucky’s only acknowledgement was a slight shifting of his legs to give Steve space, but his eyes stayed fixed on the pages of his book, turning them a beat too fast for him to be actually reading.

“Are you mad at me because I asked Loki for help?” Steve paused, his voice going soft. “Or is it something else?”

Bucky didn’t look up, flipping pages in his too-fast rhythm. “What else could it be?”

Steve’s fingers curled against his thigh, fighting against the urge to use them to tilt Bucky’s face up, to search Bucky’s eyes for everything he hoped to find. He’d been perfectly content with his plan to ride out his heartache, but all it took was one suggestion, a faint hope that Bucky might feel the same way for the longing in his chest to swell into an overwhelming wave.

He couldn’t drag either of them through that again.

Steve pushed it all down until all he felt was a dull ache in his chest. He waited until it didn’t feel like he was choking on his tongue, before attempting to find the right words to explain his friendship with Thor and Loki.

“I know you don’t trust him — and you’re right not to — but Loki has a code. It’s a shifting, breathing beast that only he understands, but it’s there,” Steve placed a hand on Bucky’s knee. “I’d never put you in any danger, you know that.”

It was only then that Bucky’s eyes met his, the sheer exasperation in them startling a chuckle from Steve.

“Of course I do,” Bucky said, vehemently. “I just don’t understand how you became friends with the devil.”

Steve scratched the back of his head. The truth was, he couldn’t quite remember when it happened either. He’d hit it off with Thor from the beginning, but Loki was more like a stray cat who snuck in through the back door and then one day decided to never leave.

“After the exchange program when I decided to stay in London, Thor suggested we rent a house together. Loki had been here the whole time so I kind of forgot they were a package deal. Believe me, after what he did to you it was a long time before I stopped putting salt in his coffee.”

Bucky’s lips curled upward at that. “Housemates with Loki. That must have been an experience.”

“We ended up renting this huge, possibly haunted semi-detached in Chelsea. On the other side lived five guys we went to school with who liked to call themselves the _Howling Commandos,”_ Steve shared, the smile on his face brought about by a hundred foolhardy memories flashing through his mind.

“Commando, as in...?” Bucky asked, an eyebrow arched curiously.

“Sometimes,” Steve said with a laugh. “But it was more _Animal House_ than _Magic Mike_.”

“The fact that you easily use Animal House as a reference worries me,” Bucky said. “Almost as much as the fact that you were fine with kissing Snape Jr.”

“How about I save that story for another day?” Steve asked. He’d already avoided getting yelled at, he didn’t think he’d have the same luck again. “Let’s just say they’ve wrangled me into almost as many schemes as you have over the years.”

Bucky pursed his lips, but didn’t press. He regarded Steve with an undecipherable look then said, “Pick me up at the office tomorrow. I’ll bring you to this deli I go to for lunch. It’s not a place I’d usually frequent, but MJ’s friend suggested it.”

Steve smiled. His part in their scheme was technically over and done, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. “So you’re not breaking up with me because of Loki?” he asked as he stood to go.

“ _Please_ ,” Bucky scoffed, already back to his reading. “Hell will freeze over before I let Loki take anything from me.”

Steve had barely gone two steps when Bucky suddenly asked, “Rogers, does that rain check include Mykonos?”

“What happened in Mykonos stays in Mykonos,” Steve said, facing Bucky as he walked backwards towards the elevator. “Not unless I want Loki to murder me in my sleep.”

“Hmmm,” Bucky hummed, a smile playing on his lips. “That _would_ be a shame. I like having you around.”

Steve's parting grin stayed on his face until he was back home.

-

That evening Tony’s driver arrived at Wanda’s door, bearing a new Starkphone for Steve and a note: _We’re in._

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another breathtaking gifset from anisstaranise: <https://anisstaranise.tumblr.com/post/633461945856573440/steve-smiled-his-part-in-their-scheme-was>


	5. Chapter 5

#####  Chapter 5

-

_ Spotted: Our little spider in… Jersey? _

_ Ugh. Please. _

-

“For someone who doesn't like Brooklyn, you’re here an awful lot,” Steve said by way of greeting when he opened the door for Bucky.

“Well, you insist on living here so I have no choice, do I?” Bucky said, thrusting the paper bags he was holding at Steve. “Here.”

Steve juggled the sudden weight, placing them on the kitchen counter and almost dropping a couple of sandwiches in the process. “What are these?”

“The sandwiches are because I don’t have time to eat before going back to the office,” Bucky explained. “The other bags are options for the Centennial Ball so you can keep your grandfather’s old tie in the back of your closet.”

“You remember I’m an orphan, right?” Steve asked, tossing a sandwich at Bucky. “That tie is one of the only mementos I have of my family.”

“That’s why you should keep it safe,” Bucky said, eyes wide with faux-innocence. “And hidden.”

Steve shook his head as he unwrapped his sandwich, the smile he’d been sporting all morning fixed firmly on his face. Not even Bucky’s digs about his clothing could ruin the day.

“I also scheduled a fitting,” Bucky continued as he moved to sit on the stool beside Steve and started on his sandwich. “I figured you didn’t pack any suits because you’re,” he waved a hand in front of Steve’s face, “Well,  _ you _ .’ 

“I wasn’t really planning to be here this long, Buck. I have a job at a place my family doesn’t own.”

“Please,” Bucky said with a roll of his eyes. “Like that means anything. I’ve been working 15 hour days since I was twenty five.”

Steve’s jaw dropped, indignation rising in him as he prepared to argue, but Bucky quickly stuffed a chunk of bread in his mouth to stop him.

“Okay, yeah, it means something,” Bucky conceded, laughing as Steve chewed angrily. “Don’t you have vacation days?”

“What do you think I’ve been using?” Steve asked once he’d forced down the bread.

Steve paused, playing with the wrapper on his sandwich. He’d been savoring his news and keeping it close to his chest, but Steve realized that if there was anyone in the world he wanted to share it with, it was Bucky.

“And I just got word,” Steve said, slowly. “My boss and I have been working on this for a while, but it wasn’t official until this morning. I’m going to be the head curator for our Paris gallery.”

It seemed impossible, but the grin that broke out on Bucky’s face was even wider than Steve’s.

“Jesus, Steve, that’s amazing. Congratulations!”

Bucky grabbed him, pulling him into a hug and Steve allowed himself a moment to bask in the feeling of Bucky’s arms around him, breathing him in. 

“Thank you,” Steve said with a laugh, when Bucky pulled away. It was like telling him had made the news real. He wasn’t just living his dream and working with art and artists around the world. He was going to be the  _ head curator _ of  _ The Pendragon _ in  _ Paris _ . “Work is going to be overwhelming. Plus I need to find a place to live.”

“I’ll find someone from W Designs in Paris to help you,” Bucky offered. “You’re going to do  _ great _ .”

“I’m sorry about the ball,” Steve said, remembering the reason Bucky was there in the first place.

“Forget about that. You’ve already done so much for us. For  _ me _ ,” Bucky said quietly, his eyes impossibly blue as he looked at Steve. “I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

Steve’s breath caught in his throat. Being around Bucky always felt like the slip-slide on a patch of ice, where he didn’t realize what was happening until he was flat on his back, winded and staring at the sky. 

It would be so easy to cup Bucky’s face in his hands, easy to sweep a thumb gently across his cheek and bring him close until their breaths mingled and their lips met. Easy to ask for more than what Bucky was willing to give.

Easy to make the same mistake twice.

As if the universe knew that he was capable of jumping out of this particular plane without a parachute, he was saved by the loud clatter of his phone vibrating against the table.

Steve sought to calm his racing pulse as he struggled with the phone.

“You even know how to use that?” Bucky asked, amused.

“Yes,” Steve said, even as he tapped on the wrong thing for the third time. It wasn’t like he was a luddite, the phone was just  _ new _ . He finally found the email app Stark had set up to receive Gossip Girl notifications, a frown forming on his face as he read.

_ _

_ (art by [anisstaranise](https://anisstaranise.tumblr.com/)) _

_ [Photo of a chandelier with glass drops and electric candles, behind it is a ballroom only partially seen, hidden by red velvet curtains. Two chat boxes are on the image with the text: _

_ Business is boring and that’s a fact, but money makes the world go round so it’s hard not to notice when a certain ex-husband appears interested in rekindling an old romance — both personally and professionally. _

_ If this is like any of the other seasons, the Centennial Ball is the place to be. Something juicy always happens at parties.] _

Steve passed the phone to Bucky. “Has Rumlow contacted you?”

“No,” Bucky said, voice tight as he pulled out his own phone, The tense set of his brows, and his suddenly dark, shuttered eyes were a harsh contrast to the way he’d just been looking at Steve. “I’m calling Tony.”

“I’m calling my boss,” Steve said, the decision settling in his mind quickly.

Bucky glared at him sharply. “Steve, no. You just told me you have to go back home.”

“It’s fine,” Steve said, giving Bucky’s arm a squeeze before heading towards the guest bedroom. “Find out what Stark knows. I’ll be right back.”

He made a quick mental calculation of the time difference, deemed it just about appropriate for a call that Fury wasn’t going to order someone to murder him, then sent up a short prayer for strength because he was sure as hell going to need it.

“Rogers,” came his boss’ deep voice on the line, “unless you’re calling to tell me your ass is on a plane to Heathrow, I’m hanging up.”

“I actually need another week,” Steve said firmly. The wince on his face not quite matching the conviction in his voice.

“And what the hell makes you think I’d agree to that?”

“Because I’m your best employee, and taking time off now means I’ll be working all through Christmas?”

Fury huffed as he weighed the pros and cons, eventually finding they worked in his favor. “Fine, but you’re stuck doing the private bookings too. What’s going on?”

Steve considered how much to share. Fury was known in the art world as one of the best curators in the business. He knew how to gain access to any artist, any piece. This also meant he knew anyone of note shady enough to deal in the black market. Steve would bet that Pierce wouldn’t hesitate to acquire art in that way. Not through connections anyone could trace back to him, but maybe through a fake company.

“You ever heard of a group called Hydra?” Steve asked.

“I take it back. Get your ass on a plane  _ right now _ ,” Fury ordered.

Steve ignored it. “Bad news?”

“The worst kind of bad,” Fury stressed. He let out a deep sigh. “Since I know you’re incapable of keeping your nose out of trouble, I’m sending you back-up.”

“What kind of—”

The line went dead before Steve could finish. He hadn’t noticed Bucky was listening until he asked, “What was that?”

Steve’s scowled. “Either the cavalry, or even more trouble.”

-

In the end, trouble didn’t come from Fury. Trouble came in the form of Tony telling Steve to meet him at Bucky’s apartment.

A meeting Bucky wasn’t aware of, judging by the confusion on his face when he answered the door.

“Is this about the blast? Wait, did you two come here  _ together _ ?” Bucky asked, even more bewildered since it wasn’t like Steve and Tony were the best of friends. Or any form of friend really.

“He asked me to meet him here,” Steve said. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

“It’s not about Gossip Girl. Nat is working on,” Tony waved his hand vaguely, “ _ things, _ and she said if she can’t make it then Rogers had to come.”

Steve glanced between Tony and Bucky, his curiosity turning into concern at the steely look on Bucky’s face.

“You found something,” Bucky said to Tony, who nodded.

Tony sat down, forcing Bucky and Steve to do the same. “Look, I’m not going to beat around the bush. This isn’t a whole city falling out of the sky, but it’s not good. Your PR agency informed Pierce that an article will be on the New York Bulletin tomorrow that mentions you.”

Steve knew zilch about running a conglomerate, but because of his work at the gallery he knew that outside of routine updates, PR teams would only contact senior staff about media mentions if they were a cause for concern.

“I pulled some strings and got an advanced copy. Yay me,” Tony said without any real joy behind his words, “It’s one of those  _ think _ pieces about the effects of outsourcing, none of which is new to anyone since it’s no longer the early 2000s, but it goes into detail about how you ordered the closure of a contact center and withheld benefits.”

Bucky’s eyebrows snapped together. “That’s not true.”

“My thoughts exactly. You’ve been nagging me about making lay-off packages more sustainable for years. So I went digging and found this.”

Tony handed his tablet to Bucky, open to a long memo filled with graphs and charts. Steve didn’t understand a word of it. All he needed to know was clear in Bucky’s stricken expression when he found his signature at the bottom.

“I don’t remember this.”

“Check the date,” Tony said gently.

The color drained completely from Bucky’s face, his expression going from horrified to furious, to finally a quiet devastation. Steve instinctively took Bucky’s hand, gratified when Bucky’s fingers curled around his instead of pulling away.

“I didn’t want you to get blindsided,” Tony said grimly. He took back the tablet from Bucky. “We can try to get them not to publish, but it would cause more harm later if it gets out.”

“Whether or not the Triskelion keeps its public image isn’t going to matter to all those people,” Bucky snapped. He closed his eyes briefly to take a breath, then gave Tony an apologetic look. “Thanks for letting me know.”

It was an obvious dismissal. Bucky gently let go of Steve’s hand and walked away, leaving Steve and Tony alone in the living room.

“What the hell was that?” Steve asked, worried and frustrated. He’d been trying to piece it together, but it was like finishing a book and finding out all the middle pages were missing.

Tony clasped his shoulder, tiredness showing at the corners of his eyes. “You should talk to him. There’s a reason Nat wanted you here.”

Steve didn’t know what he expected to find when he knocked on Bucky’s bedroom door. He turned the knob slowly, giving Bucky time to tell him to leave. His heart sank when he saw Bucky sitting on the edge of his bed, staring between his knees at the floor.

It was an eerily familiar image, only last time it had been junior year and Bucky had been sitting on Steve’s bed, having just found out that Nat had slept with Rumlow. Far simpler times, all things considered.

“Buck?” Steve asked, pulling the chair from the vanity so he could sit in front of him. “I can go if you want, but Tony said you might want to talk.”

Silence stretched between them, Steve watching patiently for any indication that Bucky wanted to be left alone. When Bucky finally looked up his eyes were wet with unshed tears.

“All my life, all I’ve ever wanted was the kind of relationship my parents had,” Bucky said quietly. “They were like a damn fairytale. Met in Paris and married six months later. They had fifteen happy years while everyone else’s parent’s relationships imploded in secret. After dad died and people suggested that my mom remarry, she told them she’d already found the love of her life and even if she didn’t get a lifetime with him, that was enough for her.”

Bucky paused, a mixture of grief and anger swimming in his tears while Steve’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t sure exactly where Bucky was going with his story but he forced himself to remain quiet, reaching over and smoothing his thumb over the back of Bucky’s hand as he waited for him to continue.

“My uncle knew that about me,” Bucky said after a minute. His hand stayed nestled under Steve’s, not even bothering to wipe away the tear that trickled down his face. “He’d remind me that my dad believed that all successful relationships take work. You don’t give up.  _ Relationships take work, James. _ That’s why I shouldn’t give up on Brock. Why I should say yes if Brock proposed.”

Bucky laughed harshly. “Turned out I was just collateral, because he’d been gradually acquiring parts of The Rumlow Organization. Brock was given the mantle of CEO, but he had a reputation. Settling down, especially with Alexander Pierce’s nephew, would be a huge part of rehabilitating his image.”

Pure fury coursed through Steve. He opened his mouth to speak — to say what he wasn’t sure — but the look on Bucky’s face stopped him. 

“It was the unhappiest time of my life, and I didn’t understand  _ why _ . I had everything I ever wanted,” Bucky continued, his eyes lost and confused. “When I told him how I felt, my uncle said he was concerned about  _ my _ behavior. Suggested I enter a facility to give myself a chance to ‘reset’. Gaslit me into thinking  _ I _ was the one with a problem. I did it because I trusted him. I  _ trusted _ him and he made them put me on so much medication I couldn’t think for myself.”

Bucky furiously swiped away the tears that were falling freely now. “They took years of my life, and I’m never going to get them back.”

Steve had to slowly pull air into his lungs to keep his voice from shaking with anger when he asked. “How did you get away?”

“Nat,” Bucky said simply. “She knew for a long time, but couldn’t stop them at first. She, Tony and Rhodey literally had to kidnap me just so they could move me into a facility they trusted. I’m lucky I didn’t end up an addict, but clearly it inflicted more damage than I thought.”

“That wasn’t  _ you _ ,” Steve stressed, grabbing both of Bucky’s hands in his. “None of that was on you.”

“I know, but I did it,” Bucky said, the heartbreak clear in his voice. “That was my signature.  _ My  _ hand that left all those people jobless and God knows what else, all because I wanted to live in a fucking fantasy. I’m an awful person.”

“Stop,” Steve shifted closer, “What they did to  _ you _ was awful. I’m not going to pretend you’re an angel, but none of this is on you. You are still the most infuriating, spoiled, occasionally selfish snob I have ever met in my life, but you are  _ not _ what they made you do.”

“You’ve always seen the best of me,” Bucky joked weakly, breathing out a faint laugh.

“It’s not hard, Buck,” Steve said, seriously.

Bucky cocked his head, his quiet, searching look trapping the air in Steve’s lungs. “When I told my mom I was getting a divorce, I was afraid she’d be disappointed, that she’d think I didn’t work hard enough. Instead, she told me that she saw just how hard I tried and she wished she’d said something earlier. That’s when I found out my dad’s true saying, ‘ _ Relationships are hard, but love should come easy’ _ .”

Steve’s words from years ago echoed in his ears.  _ Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. _

It was like Bucky had had exactly the same thought. He cupped Steve’s cheek with his hand and gave him a small, sad smile. “God, Steve, imagine if I understood that back then.”

“I’m here now,” Steve whispered. “Whatever you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

Bucky’s fingers were gentle against his jaw as he leaned in, bridging the space between them until there was nothing but the soft press of Bucky’s lips against his. It wasn’t like the frantic rush of their first kiss, no brash courage brought about by alcohol and nerves. Bucky took his time exploring Steve’s mouth, tasting him slow and deep until they were both panting for breath.

“Is this okay?” Bucky asked when he finally pulled away.

“Yeah. It’s all going to be okay.” Steve promised, resting his forehead on Bucky’s, a shuddering breath leaving his lips even as he smiled. A calm peace had stolen over his heart. If this was all he was going to get, if this night was what he could offer Bucky, then that was okay. He was more than okay.

His palms cradled Bucky’s nape, fingers buried in the curl of his hair as his eyes swept over Bucky’s nose, his cheeks, his mouth. Steve’s heart raced in his chest, threatening to burst with all the love and want he’d been keeping locked inside for more than a decade.

Bucky inhaled sharply when their eyes met once more, crashing their mouths together in kiss after kiss.

They shed their clothes quickly. Steve bared more than just his chest, his stomach, his thighs; he bared his whole soul to the man who had always owned every piece of it. His hands smoothed over muscle and skin, committing it all to memory in the same way he’d sat and studied works of art for hours.

Bucky returned the favor, sucking bruises into Steve’s skin, marking him as if Steve’s heart hadn’t been branded with Bucky's name from the very beginning.

“Patience,” he admonished when Steve’s groans turned into needy whines. Steve’s eyebrows arched incredulously and Bucky laughed, his breath tickling against Steve’s skin. “Don’t worry, I didn’t forget who I was talking to. I still figured it was worth a try.”

They slotted together, slow and hot, Bucky’s blunt fingernails digging into Steve’s skin. They trembled and gasped, moving with each other like it was meant to be. Like it was easy.

Steve’s name spilled out of Bucky in the form of deep moans, and the sound was almost as sweet as the kiss he pressed against Steve’s mouth as he came.

When they were both spent, their breathing evening out and sweat cooling on their skin, Bucky mouthed against Steve’s shoulder. “Stay?”

He didn’t have to ask twice.


	6. Chapter 6

It was barely light out when Steve woke up, the Manhattan skyline cast in pink and purple hues much like how he’d woken after that night years ago, but this time Bucky was lying in bed with him, smiling softly as Steve rubbed sleep from his eyes.

“Were you watching me sleep?”

“No, Steve. I’m not Edward Cullen. You woke me up with your snoring.”

“Like you’re any better,” Steve said with an offended sound.

“I’d deny such an allegation, but Becca has proof otherwise.”

“Wanda probably does too.”

Bucky rolled over to his stomach, bunching his pillow under his head. “Right after my dad’s funeral I started sleeping on the floor in Becca’s bedroom. I’d drag in the couch cushions and told her it was now my job to protect her so I had to stay. She kicked me out after three days.”

Steve laughed, brushing a hand over the swell of Bucky’s shoulder. It was tempting to let his hand roam the expanse of his back, tempting to repeat all they’d done the night before until they were both pleasantly sore, but the lazy way they were welcoming the morning was nice too. Lying in bed and talking. Almost domestic.

“You always were protective of her.”

“She’s why I didn’t work at W Designs,” Bucky admitted. “She didn’t want to work in fashion and I guess even then I sensed my uncle couldn’t be trusted.”

Steve trailed his fingers up Bucky’s cheek, smoothing the crease that had appeared on his forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Pissed off,” Bucky said with a twist of his lips. “Ready to annihilate that asshole.”

“We’re going to get him, Buck. It’s all going to work out,” Steve promised. He’d breathed the same promise against Bucky’s skin and he’d wage a war against anyone to keep it.

Bucky nodded, a firm resolve erasing the vulnerability he’d displayed last night. It was enough of a reminder that as much as Steve was going to cherish the memory, he couldn’t hold Bucky to anything that had transpired. He’d been there for his friend and that was it.

Ignoring the ache in his chest, Steve gave Bucky’s cheek one last stroke before he rolled over to grab his phone from his pants on the floor, frowning when he saw a number of missed calls from an unknown number.

The phone started ringing almost immediately and Steve hit the answer button on reflex, a familiar female voice coming from the other line.

“Peggy?” Steve asked, bringing the phone to his ear.

Beside him, Bucky suddenly rolled off the bed. Then, without bothering to put on a stitch of clothing, he ambled right past Steve displaying taut muscles and golden skin before walking into the bathroom.

_ “Steve!” _

He startled, realizing that Peggy was still on the phone, “Sorry, the line was bad,” he lied.

“Where are you?”

Steve cringed, knowing exactly how she’d react if she knew.“Why?”

“Because I’m at your sister’s place and you’re not,” Peggy said archly.

“ _ Why _ ?”

“Nick sent me.”

-

Steve had barely walked through House of M’s private function room doors when Peggy took one look at him and Bucky and said,  _ “Steven Grant Rogers.” _

“Peggy,” Steve warned.

“Bucky,” Bucky said, gesturing at himself cheekily. “Now that we’re done with introductions, does anyone want to explain what we’re doing here?”

Peggy’s bright red lips quirked up, amused. “Nice to finally meet you. I’ve asked Wanda to inform the rest of your cohorts that we require their presence. Why don’t you wait for them? Steve, may I have a word in private?”

Steve led her to Wanda’s office and as expected she hit him upside the head the moment they crossed the threshold.

“Ow!”

“Are you daft?” she asked, her voice low.

“How do you know I did anything stupid?”

“I could use you to light the Statue of Liberty’s torch with the way you’re glowing, which would be disgustingly sweet if you weren’t thoroughly witless.”

“Can we focus on the matter at hand?” Steve asked, knowing he had no footing on the higher ground, but hoping to leverage on it anyway. “What are you doing here?”

Peggy perched on the arm of Wanda’s couch, crossing her long legs at the ankles. “Nick needed to send someone a message and he doesn’t trust electronics at the moment. Sharon will explain when she arrives.”

“ _ Sharon _ ?” Steve asked with a grimace. He had nothing against her, but between the number of mortifying grenades in Peggy’s arsenal and Bucky’s odd refusal to talk to him during the entire walk to House of M, Steve desperately hoped for a cap on that day’s surprises.

“Yes.” Peggy leaned towards him, her smile all teeth. “Now speaking of people you’ve slept with recently.”

Steve clapped his hands in front of his chest as if in prayer, only he knew there was no getting out a verbal smackdown when Peggy was set on it.

“This isn’t like the last time, Peg. It was  _ one _ night with no expectations.”

Peggy massaged her forehead with her fingertips before glaring at Steve. “I’ve known you for a long time and I love you, but Angie’s right, you’re like those—” she snapped her fingers like she was trying to conjure the word, “What do they call people who are made of muscle, a large heart, has 163 IQ points but  _ absolutely  _ no common sense because that’s what you are.”

“A himbo,” Bucky’s voice suddenly came from the doorway.

Steve released an exhale as he turned around, embarrassed heat crawling down his neck. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long enough to conclude if there’s something between you two,” Bucky said, eyes narrowed.

“What, we’re not—” Steve began, at the same time that Peggy threw up her hands and said “Dear Lord,  _ two _ bloody idiots.” 

“I shall stay far away in the chance either of you are contagious,” Peggy informed them, brushing past Bucky and heading back to the function room.

Then before Steve could say anything Bucky gave him a withering glare and stalked away as well.

“Perfect. Just perfect,” Steve muttered to himself. With a pained groan, he sank into Wanda’s couch hoping it would somehow swallow him whole.

-

_ My, my. What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall at this brunch party.  _

-

“Am I the only one who finds this awkward?” Tony asked, looking around at the room. Eight pairs of eyes glared at him. “No? Good. I thought it was just me.”

Steve sat sullenly, his arms crossed over his chest. He’d spent the last fifteen minutes happily ensconced in the peace of Wanda’s office. A fleeting, temporary peace because he was back in the thick of it, stuck in a room with his former classmates, his sister, the love of his life, his most recent one night stand, his one night stand’s aunt,  _ and _ his one night stand’s partner which, based entirely on their body language, they meant in every sense of the word.

Sharon had introduced her as Maria Hill, both of them some form of federal agent because apparently Steve’s life wasn’t convoluted enough.

“We’re not going to take up much of your time.” Sharon leaned forward, her hands clasped together on the table. “We’ve already made sure the area’s secure, but we need to check your phones.”

“Okay, look, Women in Black,” Tony jabbed the tabletop with his finger. “We’re all using Starktech that hasn’t been released in the market. So no, you’re not allowed to see them.”

Maria gave him an icy stare. “We have reason to believe that the app Insight is being used to monitor and track individuals so when we asked to see your phones. It’s not because I want to take a selfie.”

The statement sent chills up Steve’s spine. He’d had the app on his old phone and he wouldn’t be surprised if that had been the reason the meeting with Pierce fell through.

“She’s scary. Is she always this scary?” Tony asked Sharon. He fiddled with his phone then slid it across the table. “The operating system on these are new. Most apps don’t work with them yet so I had to get creative and have the Gossip Girl updates sent via email.”

“He’s right. It’s clean,” Sharon confirmed after inserting a gadget that resembled a data stick into the phone’s port.

“Good,” Maria said. “That’ll make this simpler.”

“Wait, no.” Bucky sat up suddenly from where he’d been mostly glaring at Steve’s general direction. “One of our subsidiaries made that app. Becca’s been selling it as a part of a suite of solutions.”

“Rebecca Barnes,” Maria nodded, her face blank. “She’s a person of interest.”

“The hell she is,” Bucky said hotly. “My sister’s job is business development. She has nothing to do with creating those apps.”

“Which you know,” Steve said to Sharon and Maria, voice hard and pissed off at the hand they just played. “Or you wouldn’t be telling us that.”

Sharon glanced at Maria who nodded. “We have the paper trail that could put a lot of possible innocent people in hot water, but we also know that Pierce is the one behind all of it. We just need proof.”

“That’s where you come in,” Maria said. “Help us find what we need to pin this on Pierce.”

“How do you know that’s something we can do?” Rhodey asked. “None of us are whatever you people are.”

“That’s right. In the simplest of definitions each one of us is just a socialite, a lawyer, a super fashionable businessman, and a genius, playboy, billionaire philanthropist,” Tony said, spreading his arms wide.

Natasha smirked. “They know because they’ve been using Insight to listen in on people too.”

“That’s wrong and creepy and illegal,” Rhodey said.

“I don’t think we should be pointing fingers when it comes to illegal activity,” Tony murmured.

Maria smiled at Natasha. “Glad to know you’re still keeping up with us.”

“You’re a spy aren’t you? You’re one of them,” Tony accused Natasha. Which, fair enough, Steve didn’t actually know what Natasha did for a living, but they had more important puzzles to put together.

“Can we focus?” Peggy asked, seeming to read Steve’s mind. “You’re all on the same team so the faster you get on board, the sooner you take this man down.”

It was the trigger everyone needed. They set to work, hammering out details and laying out a plan as meticulously as possible until Sharon and Maria were satisfied.

“What are we supposed to do in the meantime?” Wanda asked before they left.

”Act normal,” Sharon directed. “Leave it to us.”

-

“I don’t know why you’re mad at me,” Steve said loudly, before Bucky could leave. It was a gamble seeing as they weren’t alone in the room yet, but one that paid off because Bucky froze while the rest immediately disappeared, dodging the line of fire.

“Who said I was mad at you?” Bucky asked, the question downright ridiculous considering he was literally glaring at Steve.

“I know we’re better at sniping than communicating, but I don’t know what I did,” Steve said, earnestly as he slowly moved closer. When it came to Bucky he would always cave first and he’d accepted that. 

There was a terse silence, anger still written on Bucky’s face. Anger that Steve realized was no longer directed at him. Bucky seemed more mad at himself. “Talk to me, please.”

Bucky huffed before sagging against the wall. “Nothing. You didn’t do anything, Rogers.”

“I see I’m back to ‘Rogers’ again,” Steve commented with a wry smile.

“That is your name,” Bucky snarked. He sighed and raised a hand to massage the back of his neck. “God, I’m sorry for being a dick. It’s just been a long—”

“Decade?” Steve finished.

“Yeah,” Bucky said with a dry laugh. “Let’s just do what Hill and Carter asked so that we can put all of this behind us.”

Steve stared at the floor and nodded quietly, his throat suddenly full of barbed wire and shrapnel. “Move on with our lives?”

“Exactly.”

He swallowed, forcing a smile on his face. “Since Pierce probably knows we’re not really together, does that mean you’re not dragging me to the ball tomorrow? Save your toes from my two left feet?”

A nervous fluttering erupted in Steve’s chest as he waited for an answer. Cancelling was the last thing he wanted. He had one more week in New York. One last week with Bucky. He might not be Bucky’s fairytale, but for one week he could try. A homemade picnic at the park, an evening at a beautiful ball, forgetting that clock was ever going to strike midnight.

Bucky gave him an incredulous look. “You work in an industry that throws endless fundraising galas you’ve never learned to dance?”

“I guess I never found the right partner,” Steve said, his voice coming out softer than he intended. 

“Then tomorrow can be our last public performance.” Bucky’s smile was so bright it brought a genuine smile to Steve’s face. “Now, come on. We still need to get you suited up.”

-

_ Hear that? Nothing like the pitter patter of stylish little feet preparing for the SHIELD Centennial Ball. Yours truly is excited for more than just couture, champagne and canapes. _

_ As a certain musical promised, it’s gonna be a night to remember. _

-

“If I knew I could get away with sneakers and a ponytail I wouldn’t have bothered getting dolled up,” Steve said, walking up to Wanda his hands in his pockets.

As promised he’d arrived at the Rumlow Regency an hour and a half early. There were still people scurrying around preparing tables and testing the sound system, but everything else was in place. The ballroom had been styled in a way that enhanced the inherent romanticism of the room with its high ceiling and the stone arches adorning the walls. Steve still had the venue on principle, but he couldn't deny its beauty.

Wanda cursed the bottom of a chafing dish she was trying to fix, before straightening and just picking up the whole thing. “Please, if that was allowed I wouldn’t have an evening gown and heels stashed in my car. I don’t know why I agreed to cater tonight.”

“Because you’re a pushover?” Steve teased as he followed her.

“Says the guy who’s in a suit his fake boyfriend picked out for him,” Wanda said, gesturing at the navy blue number he was wearing. “I can’t believe he got you to wear a bowtie.”

Steve’s hand went to his neck self-consciously, stopping midway to avoid fiddling with it. He’d arrived already dressed because he wasn’t about to go all the way back to Brooklyn to get ready and Wanda had sworn up and down she just needed a teeny tiny favor.

Then again, the last time she’d asked for a favor, it had included art fraud.

“Don’t you need  _ me _ to help  _ you _ ?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at Wanda, “Do you really want to be bullying me right now?”

Wanda wisely bit her tongue and set him to work, ordering him around wherever she needed until she was able to take a breath and get ready herself. It was an effective distraction, but as guests started filtering in, Steve could no longer ignore the unease rippling through his stomach.

He’d messaged Bucky early explaining Wanda’s predicament and while he was mostly sure that the ‘okay’ Bucky had sent back really did mean  _ okay _ , it had been the last message Steve had received from him.

Steve checked his phone for what felt like the hundredth time. It was starting to become a little pathetic, but the part of him that still felt the acute sting of Bucky leaving him after that night whispered that maybe Bucky wasn’t going to show up after all.

A cloying anxiety was starting to thicken in his chest just as he spotted Rhodey and Peggy walking towards him.

“Hey, man, you clean up nice,” Rhodey said, a friendly grin on his face.

“You do,” Peggy agreed. She gave Steve a kiss on the cheek and then winked at Rhodey. “Almost as well as my date.”

Rhodey accepted the compliment with a smug smile, “See, this is why you should just stay in New York with us.”

“I don’t think my wife would respond kindly to that. I’m to be on the first flight out of JFK tomorrow.”

Steve let their banter wash over him as he checked his phone again. His ripple of unease had started churning into a roiling wave.

“You look nervous. You’re not going to propose are you?”

Steve flushed bright red. “No! We’re not— Why would you even—”

Peggy patted Rhodey’s arm. “Don’t torture him, darling. Although I must say, if Wanda and Natasha were your best women they might steal all of your thunder. You could just elope?"

”You two are evil,” Steve pronounced, rolling his eyes fondly when his friends laughed. It eased the heaviness inside him a fraction of an inch, but that was all. There was little chance of it leaving completely while his phone still stayed silent in his hand.

Steve turned to ask Rhodey if he heard from the others when a flash of blue caught Steve’s eyes. 

Entering the ballroom, in the suit he’d chosen to match Steve’s perfectly, was Bucky.

It was like the rest of the world slowly faded away, the sound of his rapidly beating heart loud in his own ears. Nothing and no one existed for Steve except for the man he’d have happily chosen again and again if only he would let him.

He may not be Bucky’s fairytale, but Bucky was definitely his.

Steve’s lips turned up into a soft smile, his steps unsteady as he moved forward. Bucky turned in his direction and in the moment that their eyes met across the room an icy hand ran up Steve’s spine.

Bucky was looking straight at him, eyebrows furrowed, but with no recognition on his face. The closer he got the more Steve realized that Bucky’s skin was sallow, a glazed expression on his eyes.

Something was wrong.

Steve weaved through the crowd faster, the icy hand on his spine tightening into a crushing grip when Rumlow appeared behind Bucky, his arm sliding around his waist and pulling Bucky to him with a rough, possessive tug. Seeing them together was a knuckle punch. That Bucky didn’t fight him was like a shot to the gut.

There was a breath when Steve wondered if this was simply Bucky being Bucky. If this was just another of a series of moments when Bucky unknowingly ripped his heart out. Only Bucky wouldn’t. Not like this. Not with him.

In that crucial second when Steve’s steps faltered, Bucky and Rumlow disappeared into the crowd.

Steve turned on his heel, rushing back to Peggy and Rhodey.

“Did you see him?” His eyes scanned the room, but there were too many people, the decor he’d admired earlier now creating blindspots everywhere.

“Who?”

“Bucky,” Steve gritted out. “He was with Rumlow.”

“ _ Jesus Christ, _ ” Rhodey swore, his face hardening. “Find him. I’ll call Nat and Tony.”

It was a standard sized ballroom, but the time it took him to find Bucky could have been an eternity.

Relief and apprehension warred inside him when he finally spotted them. He didn’t give a shit that Rumlow was right there. They could deal with him later, all he cared about at that moment was making sure Bucky was okay.

He grabbed Bucky’s elbow and when Bucky turned to him, eyes clouded with uncertainty, Steve was positive that Bucky didn’t even know where he was.

“Don’t make a scene, Rogers,” Rumlow said with a sharp smile.

Steve realized several pairs of eyes were on them, whispers rolling through the crowd. He wouldn’t be surprised if his phone had blown up with notifications from Gossip Girl.

“I’m not leaving without you,” Steve told Bucky, his voice low. “Buck, please.”

Bucky looked at him, the slightest edge of defiance flashing in his otherwise glassy eyes. “I’m sorry, Steve. You know how it is. Sometimes couch cushions aren’t enough.”

The words cut through Steve, helpless desperation clawing inside him. His fingers curled into a fist when Bucky pulled away.

Blood was still rushing in his ears when he stalked past Peggy, answering his questioning gaze with a growl.

“They have something on Becca.”

-

_ All’s fair in love and war, but in the UES we don’t fight with knuckles in alleyways. Our wars are always fought in secret until all is revealed to the world. _

_ I told you it was going to be a night to remember.  _


	7. Chapter 7

At three in the morning when devoid of its clientele, House of M’s usually spirited atmosphere was appropriately morose. It reeked of a symbolism that Steve would normally appreciate, but he couldn’t care less about his surroundings, especially when Natasha had the gall to demand that he leave Bucky’s rescue to herself and the others.

Steve stared Natasha right down. “Absolutely not.”

From the corner of his eye he could see Wanda and Peggy giving each other worried looks, while Sharon and Maria seemed like they were trying to figure out the best way to butt in.

“I know you care about Bucky - we  _ all _ do - but you’re not made for this,” Natasha argued. “You need to sit this one out and wait.”

Steve scoffed. “The last time it took you years. Is that what’s going to happen now? You’re going to  _ wait _ ?” 

It was like he’d lit a match under a keg of dynamite.

“Don’t you  _ dare. _ You have no idea—” Natasha growled, her eyes blazing with anger, at the same time that Rhodey spat, “Fuck you, Steve. You weren’t there.”

From across the room where he was straddling a chair, Tony gave a low whistle. “Didn’t know you were capable of such assholery, Rogers.”

“People!” Maria’s voice rose above the arguing. “Listen to me. You’re civilians. You’ve been treating this like one of your childish schemes, but the grown ups need to take over now.”

Tony gawped at her. “Excuse me, didn’t you just ask my humongous childish brain to help you with stuff I have  _ absolutely no clearance to talk about _ ,” he finished in a rush when Maria glared at him.

“Maybe they’re right, Steve,” Wanda said, gently. “Bucky wouldn’t want you to risk Becca’s safety.”

“We can get Bucky away from Rumlow without starting anything,” he insisted.

“ _ We? _ ” Tony mocked. “You’re a  _ curator _ . What are you gonna do? Put together an exhibit that will wow them into submission?”

Steve whirled on Tony, but Sharon pushed him back.

“Listen to me,” she said, holding Steve in place. “Rumlow is a glorified henchman, but Pierce is a sly son of a bitch. We can’t afford to make mistakes right now. We only know so much about him because of Gossip Girl.”

“Hold up,” Rhodey said, one hand raised. “Did you say  _ Gossip Girl _ ?”

“Gossip Girl is one of the most well-informed sources in this city. He went on the Insight app for us because we needed to see how far it extends. How many people it can monitor at one time.”

“Did you say  _ ‘he’ _ ?

“We’re only sharing this information because he wanted you to know before we arranged a meeting,” Maria said, speaking mostly to Natasha and Tony. “He may have found our silver bullet, but he needs a little help with the extraction.” She turned to Steve, her eyes boring holes into him. “Everyone  _ else _ needs to back off.”

Steve clenched his jaw. He didn’t survive the foster system despite being a ninety-pound bag of spit and vinegar without knowing when to pick his battles. “I guess we all have our roles to play.”

To most of the room it seemed like deference, but Peggy and Wanda were both looking at him suspiciously, knowing that there was no chance in hell he would wait around while Bucky was in trouble.

They were right.

-

Steve slouched low on the small table, keeping his eyes on the door as he sipped his bitter cardboard-cup of coffee. The lunch hour had just started to pick up, customers going in and out of the shop with little consideration for the people around them.

From the counter, Delmar was giving him the stink eye. The only reason the older man hadn’t called the cops was because Delmar recognized him from the last time he came in with Bucky, and Bucky’s affinity for the place was the reason he was sitting there with a takeout order of two dozen sandwiches to keep from getting kicked out.

Steve adjusted the wide-rimmed glasses on his face, the movement unfamiliar to him so that he accidentally hit the brim of his baseball cap and almost knocked it to the ground. Wanda was right, it was a stupid idea and he was no spy, but if there was a chance to get to Bucky then he was going to take it.

He pulled the cap back down over his eyes just as the door opened and the man he’d been waiting for walked in, his eyes immediately drawn to Steve.

It was just like the night of the Centennial Ball, only this time Bucky was lucid, giving Steve a discreet shake of his head as he pulled out his phone from his inside breast pocket. The phone wasn’t one of Stark’s, which meant that while Bucky no longer seemed to be drugged, he was still being monitored.

Steve’s fingers curled around the edge of the table, fighting against the urge to just leap over it and run away with Bucky like an errant knight in shining armour. 

“Hey, Delmar, don’t you think Superman’s disguises are the  _ worst? _ ” Bucky asked when he got to the counter, his voice carrying just far enough that Steve was able to understand him clearly. “Who thinks they can hide behind a pair of glasses?  _ Obviously, _ he needed a hoodie and a baseball cap. That would make everything better.”

Despite the anxiety fluttering in his chest, Steve couldn’t help the small smile he covered up by taking another sip of his coffee. Trust Bucky to always find a flaw in his outfit, under any circumstance.

Delmar looked Bucky up and down. “Is this your way of admitting you’re a supervillain?” the man asked. “Coming in here everyday looking like you’re going to buy me out.”

“Jesus, no. I’d have to wade through a thousand health violations”

Delmar shrugged as if to say,  _ ‘whatcha gonna do?’ _ He tapped his wax pencil on top of the sandwich wrapper. “You want your usual?”

“Yeah, and I’m getting a custom order. Give me that,” Bucky said, taking the pencil from Delmar.

Steve observed every movement carefully, watching for any signals, his frustration mounting as Bucky continued to go about his business like it was just a normal day. When it came time for Bucky to leave, two sandwiches tucked into a bag under his arm, Steve’s patience snapped. He stood up, ready to drag Bucky out of the state by cab if necessary, but a large body suddenly blocked his way.

“Here’s your additional take out.” Delmar said, thrusting a bag at him 

“I didn’t order that.” Steve shook his head, trying to step around him, but Delmar grabbed his shoulder and said firmly.

“ _ Try it _ , kid. Specially made.”

The words finally broke past the rushing in Steve’s ears. He sat down heavily, opening the bag to find a single sandwich inside. 

Written on the wrapper in Bucky’s neat script was a message:  _ I’m fine. Do what they say, dumbass. _

The urge to both laugh and cry bubbled inside Steve. So he did the only thing he could think to do at the moment. He took a bite of the sandwich.

It was a damn good sandwich.

-

It took four days, eight hours, and two complaints from Wanda’s neighbors about Steve’s continuous abuse of his new punching bag before he finally received a text message.

**Sharon to Steve:** Reed Medical now. We’re going after Pierce.

-

“You stupid, reckless,  _ jerk _ ,” Steve growled as he entered Bucky’s hospital room.

Relief threatened to bowl him over even as his eyebrows felt like they would fuse together from how hard he was glaring. Bucky glared right back from where he was sitting on the bed, still looking unbelievably put together despite his drab hospital gown.

“Are you really yelling at me right now?” Bucky asked in disbelief. “I have a concussion.”

“Yes! Because you’re a stupid, reckless,  _ jerk! _ ” Steve repeated, flapping his arms helplessly because the stupid, reckless, jerk had a concussion and he couldn’t do what he really wanted which was to smack Bucky upside the head for being so careless, then nestle him in the safety of his arms and protect him from the whole goddamned world.

“Oh my god,” Bucky laughed, incredulously. “That’s rich coming from  _ Steve Rogers _ of all people. Also what did you do? Why did the nurse ask if my _ fiance  _ was going to be okay?”

A hot blush spread down his collar. It wasn’t like he’d lied to them, exactly. He just didn’t correct them when they made assumptions based on the way he’d basically begged them with big wet, pleading eyes that he needed to see that Bucky was alright.

Steve brushed off the question. “Don’t change the subject. You couldn’t even tell me what you were doing?”

“Nat said you agreed to leave it to them. How was I supposed to know you lied? Besides, it was for your own safety. I’d do it again in a heartbeat and I know you’d do the same for me.”

‘It’ being that Gossip Girl had found a way to prove Becca’s innocence after the ball, but Bucky  _ chose _ to pretend that he was helplessly doing Pierce’s bidding so they could set up the next stage of the plan.

Bucky crossed his arms grumpily, wincing at the sudden movement and effectively guilting Steve into calming down.

“How are you feeling?” Steve adjusted the pillows so Bucky could sit up, before sitting on the edge of the bed himself.

“Sore,” Bucky admitted. He motioned towards the freshly-stitched cut on his temple. “This better not scar. I can’t believe that asshole pushed me into a wall.”

Steve’s hand clenched around the bedspread. He still didn’t have the whole story, but from the bits and pieces Steve was able to cobble together, Gossip Girl had come through for them, giving Natasha and the others enough information that they were able to scare Rumlow into telling them exactly what Pierce had on Becca. That didn’t mean the fucker hadn’t tried to cause more damage before getting taken down, though.

“Hey.” Bucky reached over and squeezed Steve’s hand. “I’m fine. Don’t go rushing off to defend my honor.”

“You’ve more than proven that you can take care of yourself, Buck.” He was furious, and the anxiety ulcer he’d developed wasn’t healing anytime soon, but he was also ferociously proud.

“It’s not over. We still need to get Pierce.”

“No.” Steve gave him his firmest, most potent glare. “ _ You _ aren’t doing anything except staying in bed. We’re both sitting this one out.” It was hypocritical considering his initial refusal to leave Bucky’s rescue to the others, but if necessary, he was barricading the doors and locking them in.

“When exactly did you become the boss of me, Rogers?”

Steve leaned forward to look Bucky straight in the eyes. “Since you scared the living crap out of me. Do you have any idea how terrified I was of losing you?”

Even now his heart lurched widely in his chest when he thought about that possibility. Despite the cavalier way Bucky had been treating the entire operation, there had been actual danger involved and he didn’t have a clue what he’d have done if something worse had happened.

He reached out, gently brushing his knuckles against the line of Bucky’s jaw, his scruff rough against Steve’s skin.

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice was barely above a whisper, gazing up at him with eyes that always made Steve think of snowflakes and a clear winter sky. “You’re not going to profess your undying love to me like I’m on my deathbed, are you?”

The laugh that exploded out of Steve was a perfect blend of fond and exasperated.

“You’re such a goddamned _ jerk _ ,” he whispered, before leaning in and kissing Bucky. 

Any self-respecting romantic would say that of all possible kisses, the post-life-threatening-encounter-reunion kiss was definitely the most passionate and all-consuming. It was the kiss where you recklessly pushed your unsteady pile of chips to the middle of the table, cards laid bare and told the dealer you were going all in.

Steve, however, was content with a gentle press of their lips, keenly aware of the bandage sitting just shy of Bucky’s hairline. That was until Bucky made a frustrated noise and grabbed Steve’s shoulders with both hands, pulling him into a hot, open-mouthed kiss.

A desperate need to touch rose through him quickly. Steve’s hands smoothed over every inch of Bucky skin that wasn’t covered by the hospital gown, needing to feel him real and solid and  _ safe _ . Since the invention of the kiss, there have only been five kisses that were rated the most passionate and the most pure, but Steve didn’t care about any of them because he was kissing  _ Bucky _ and that was all that mattered.

Buttercup and Westley, eat your heart out.

They paused for breath and Bucky patted Steve’s chest, his face screwing up slightly. “Not to ruin the moment, but there’s a risk I’m going to vomit if we keep this up.”

“Oh god, I’m so—” Steve stammered, but Bucky’s sudden glare stopped him cold.

“If you try to apologize for kissing me, Rogers, I’m going to kick your ass.”

Steve laughed, leaning back and holding Bucky’s hand instead.

“Do you want anything?” 

Maybe it was finally getting out from under Pierce, maybe it was sheer joy at being alive, maybe it was the head injury, but Bucky smiled at him, his face lit up in a way that Steve rarely got to see and it was like he suddenly knew with unshakeable certainty that everything was going to be okay.

“Stay with me?”

Steve nodded. All Bucky ever had to do was ask. 

-

A false clarity often comes after high stress situations. It was why people say you should never make life-altering decisions when you’re angry or sad or in Steve’s case, when the man he’d happily choose to love every day of his life had just avoided his villainous uncle’s attempt at stealing his company by shackling him to his ex-husband.

No one ever said Steve was the kind to make wise choices.

He stared at the email, his new contract attached for him to review, then he took a type breath and started typing out his reply.

-

“Why do you look like you’re thinking about doing something stupid?” Bucky asked.

He was out of the hospital and on strict orders to take it easy. A challenge, not only because Steve had fallen in love with the most pigheaded man on the planet - second only to himself, of course - but also because Bucky had wanted to throw an actual party the moment their board voted out Pierce.

Luckily, Steve easily found ways to keep his mind off it.

“What does that look like exactly?” he asked, shifting so that he was lying partially on top of Bucky, kissing the line of his jaw and making his way down his neck.

“It mostly looks like your regular face.”

Steve bit him in retaliation. “ _ You _ have a regular face,” he said childishly.

“I have a  _ fantastic _ face,” Bucky scoffed.

“You really do,” Steve said grinning against Bucky’s mouth as he pressed another kiss to his lips.

The thing was, Bucky wasn’t  _ wrong. _ There might have been an idea that mutated into a plan that had quickly turned into a decision that Steve wasn’t quite ready to share yet.

Or rather, he wasn’t ready to accept the state of his rapidly dissipating bubble of denial.

“Don’t think I don’t see your mopey-ass face when I’m not looking,” Bucky informed him. “Makes it harder to appreciate your smedium shirts.” He tugged at the hem of said shirt. “Come on, free the boobs, Rogers.”

Steve did as he was told, shucking off his shirt and throwing it in the general direction of the pillows. “Happy?”

“Much,” Bucky said with a pleased sound. “Back to the topic at hand. What stupid thing are you planning?”

Instead of answering, Steve grabbed the hand that was giving his pecs an appreciative squeeze and sucked Bucky’s thumb into his mouth, swirling his tongue against the sensitive pads of his fingers.

Bucky licked his lips. “You’re just trying to distract me.”

“Yup,” Steve’s grin was as bright as the sun. “Gonna make you forget everything but me and you.”

He made damn good on his cheesy ass promise. 

-

“Okay, this is getting ridiculous, even for the patented James Buchanan Barnes brand of denial,” Bucky said the following evening.

“I’ve always thought that was an underappreciated talent,” Steve teased.

They were in bed, Bucky straddling Steve’s lap, indulging themselves in making out like teenagers but not much else. A quiet reprieve after, well,  _ everything _ .

“As much as I’m enjoying our cosy cocoon, there is that little matter of your impending departure,” Bucky pointed out.

He was right of course. Their time together was running out, and Steve had already received reminder emails from Falcon Airlines that his flight was scheduled for the end of the week. He’d left all three unread, the notifications glaring at him accusingly every time he picked up his phone.

There was also a fourth email. That one read. Just waiting for Steve to take the next step.

He chewed the inside of his cheek, smoothing his hands over Bucky’s arms. “I’m going to say some things and I’m honestly not sure how you’re going to react, but you should try to keep an open mind.”

Bucky arched an eyebrow at him. “Sure, pal, that doesn’t sound suspicious at  _ all _ . Did you kill Pierce? Because Rhodey already assured us he’s definitely going to jail. I don’t want you going in his place.”

Exasperated amusement welled up inside Steve. “Is that what it’s going to take to stop you interrupting me?” he asked, “because right now life imprisonment seems like a small price to pay.”

With a regal, absolutely bratty flair, Bucky moved off Steve’s lap and motioned for him to go on. “Proceed.”

“ _ As I was saying, _ ” Steve said, laughing when Bucky poked his side. The constant interruptions a distraction from his frazzled nerves. Barely. Now that Bucky was actually silent, a curious expression on his face, Steve had to take a deep breath to calm his skittering pulse.

“There's been this... this build up,” he began, lacing his fingers through Bucky’s.“It’s happened in the middle of schemes and felonies and misunderstandings and the two of us getting our heads out of our respective asses, but despite all of that, or maybe  _ because _ of it, it's never been clearer for me what I want.” He looked down at their joined hands, taking a deep breath before plunging in. “I was talking to my boss. There’s a gallery in SOHO that needs an art director. It’s not The Pendragon, and it’s not Paris, but—”

“Stop,” Bucky interrupted. Steve looked up to see that his curious expression had morphed into one of disbelief. “Are you serious right now? You don’t give up your dream job for—”, he jerked his hand away, gesturing between them, "—we don’t even know what the hell this  _ is  _ yet. We could be back to forgetting each other a week after Sunday.”

In an instant it was like all the air was sucked out of the room. Everything that Steve was nervous about right along with it. He hadn’t been making any wild assumptions about the future of their relationship, but he’d at least thought Bucky considered them more than a fling.

“You know how I feel about you, Buck,” he said, quietly. “There’s no way you don’t.”

They stared at each other for a second, an unreadable look on Bucky’s face. Bucky was the first to look away, his eyes dropping and Steve’s heart crashing right along with it.

“I have to go,” Bucky mumbled, before sliding off the bed and walking out.

For the second time in as many years, Steve was left alone in Bucky’s room with nothing but an empty bed and a broken heart.

-

Steve stayed at Bucky’s apartment for exactly fifteen minutes before he finally knocked some sense into himself. Then he’d walked all the way back to Brooklyn, resolving with every step that this time he wouldn’t be the first one to cave.

Resolve that crumbled around the edges the moment he opened the door to Wanda’s apartment and found Bucky already there, sitting at the kitchen counter.

“I’m getting really sick of being left in your bedroom, Buck,” Steve snapped before Bucky could say anything, grabbing a water bottle from Wanda’s fridge and downing the contents.

He left the bottle by the sink and walked out onto Wanda’s balcony, filling his lungs with cool evening air. He was pissed, and would actually have welcomed it if Bucky took the hint and left him alone, but because Bucky had a knack of always doing exactly the opposite of what Steve wanted, Bucky followed him outside, leaning against the doorway.

The silence between them pulled taut, broken only by the usual sounds of the city, until Bucky said without preamble. “You love me.”

“Yes,” Steve said, the words falling from his lips effortlessly. He loved Bucky. That he always would was a truth he’d learned to accept.

“You’ve always loved me,” Bucky said, his voice soft and almost sad.

“Yes,” Steve repeated. That was true too. Since the moment they’d met, Steve couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t in love with Bucky in some form or another.

“That’s not enough, Steve.” Bucky ran a hand through his hair miserably. “We just went through an ordeal that started because I refused to give up on some stupid fantasy. You can’t pass up an opportunity you’ve worked hard for just because you’re in love.”

This time Steve had to roll his eyes. “I know.”

“What?”

“I  _ know _ ,” Steve said. “That’s what I was trying to tell you. I considered staying here, I’m not going to lie, but that would have been unfair to both of us. I want to make this work. I want to be able to love you without fighting you every step of the way. I want us to have a fight and know that you aren’t going to walk out on me every time. I want us to learn to communicate because we are  _ amazingly _ bad at it.”

He took out his phone, opened it to the email that had been silently judging him since it had arrived in his inbox and tossed it at Bucky.

Bucky frowned when he read what it said. “You got me a ticket to Paris?”

“I’ll be there for two weeks in December to get ready for my move. I was going to ask if you could take time off to come with me. I know that long distance relationships take a lot of work, but I want to try. For you. For us.”

An ambulance siren wailed in the distance and Steve dramatically wished he was in it right now, instead of standing on a Brooklyn balcony holding his fragile heart in his hands.

“I’m going to say things now,” Bucky said, mimicking Steve’s words from earlier. “And I need you to hear me out.”

“Okay.”

Bucky moved towards Steve until he was standing right in front of him and then handed him his phone back. “I can’t accept this,” he said.

As much as Steve had prepared himself for the possibility of rejection, it was still a sniper shot that whistled through the air and sliced right through his heart. Bucky seemed to sense his dismay, because he quickly reached out to hold Steve’s hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I have a bad track record of letting my heart make decisions for me, which is great for people like you,” Bucky continued. “You’ve always known what your heart sounds like, but I don’t. I’ve been seduced by sweeping declarations and grand romantic gestures, and maybe a part of me always will be. But I’ve started to recognize when I’m simply in love with the idea of being in love, and when I actually  _ am _ in love.”

Bucky paused, cupping Steve’s jaw tenderly with his hand. The intensity of his gaze pulled every molecule of oxygen from Steve’s lungs. 

“I love you,” Bucky said, simply, unwavering. “Which sounds insane because it’s been, what, four weeks? But it’s also been four years. And sixteen years. I’ve known you since you were the new guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to get on my bad side, and I never stood a chance.”

“You love me,” Steve said, finally wrapping his head around Bucky actually saying those words to him.

“For a long time I think,” Bucky said, gazing at Steve with a soft smile.

More curious than anything else, Steve asked, “Then why is a holiday in Paris off the table?”

“Because I talked to my mom the day they voted out Pierce. Becca’s going to take over Triskelion Communications one day, it’s only a matter of time, and since all her dreams are coming true, I figured it’s time I chased mine.” Bucky bit his lip before smiling almost shyly at Steve. “I can’t go to Paris for a holiday because I’ll already be working at W Designs there.”

Overcome with an explosion of love and pride and awe, Steve pulled Bucky towards him, crushing their lips together in a kiss. It had been a rollercoaster of a day, but what mattered was that Bucky loved him, and Bucky was also moving to Paris to chase his dreams, and Bucky had known— 

Ignoring Bucky’s small noise of complaint, Steve pulled back, holding him at arm’s length. “Wait. You said you and your mom talked after her board meeting. You’ve known about this for  _ days _ ?”

“I was going to tell you today, but then I obviously got side-tracked,” he grimaced then shrugged, “Besides, you’re cute when you’re moping.”

“You absolute, insufferable,  _ jerk _ . I cannot believe—” 

Bucky pressed his lips against Steve’s to drown out any further protests, laughing at him and kissing him at the same time. If that wasn’t symbolic of their entire relationship, Steve didn’t know what was.

“You’re moving to Paris,” Steve said when they stopped to take a breath, his brain still struggling to process the news.

“I’m moving to Paris.”

“And you love me.”

Bucky grinned, the light in his eyes so bright it rivaled every damn star in the New York sky. “I really do.”

-

_(art by[anisstaranise](https://anisstaranise.tumblr.com/))_

_[Photo of the New York sunrise take through a chain-link fence. Two chat boxes are on the image with the text:_

_ All good things must come to an end, but if you’re lucky, the end is simply the beginning of your happily ever after. _

_ Goodbye for now, Upper East Siders. _

_ You know you love me. _

_ xoxo Gossip Girl] _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for coming with us on this fun, trashy, whirlwind!
> 
> Please make sure to send some love to my artists, [askmeaboutmyoctopustheory](https://twitter.com/AskAboutOcto) and [anisstaranise](https://anisstaranise.tumblr.com/), and to my beta, [silverkuja](https://twitter.com/silverkuja).
> 
> If you have some left over, say hello to me on twitter too! [djchika_](https://twitter.com/djchika_)


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